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06 


S 


THE   WINTER  QUEEN 


"  Qui  salt  si  le  reve  d'un  poete  n'est  pas  aussi  lucide  que  1'observa- 
tion  ?  Et  si  representer  les  etres  comme  ils  f  urent  dans  sa  vision, 
n'est  pas  plus  sure  faQon  de  fixer  1'expression  fugace,  ou  parfois  se 
revele — le  temps  d'un  eclair — 1'intimite  d'une  ame  ? 

"  Pourquoi  n'appartiendraient-ils  pas  au  roman^  les  personnages 
qui  appartiennent  a  1'histoire,  roman  aussi  ?  " 

CATDLLE  MEND^S. 


"&? 

•  ir    i"-ti 


THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

BEING  THE  UNHAPPY  HISTORY  OF 

ELIZABETH    STUART 

ELECTRESS    PALATINE,   QUEEN    OF 
BOHEMIA 


A    ROMANCE 

BY 

MARIE    HAY 

AUTHOR  OF   'A   GERMAN  POMPADOUR1 

'  DIANNK  DE  POITIERS '   AND   '  AN 

UNREQUITED  LOYALTY' 


BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN   COMPANY 

1910 


Printed  by  BALLANTYNB,  HANSON  &*  Co. 
At  the  Ballantyne  Press,  Edinburgh 


TO 

LEILA    AND     HERBERT 

IN    MEMORY    OF    OUE    WANDERINGS    IN 

GERMANY,    IN    BOHEMIA,    IN   HOLLAND, 

AND  IN  ENGLAND,  WHERE   WE   SOUGHT 

THROUGH      THE      RECORDS      OF 

THE     SORROWFUL    HISTORY     OF 

HER    WELL-BELOVED    MAJESTY, 

ELIZABETH   OF    BOHEMIA. 


PREFACE 

BECAUSE  the  Stuart  charm,  working  through 
the  long-dead  years,  enchained  me;  and  then, 
because  personality  is  deathless,  I  fell  into  a  true 
love  for  her  Majesty  of  Bohemia.  But  how  it  began  ? 
Well — a  strange  thing,  and  yet,  if  personality  is  death- 
less, not  so  strange.  Wandering  through  Bohemia,  curious 
to  see  and  perchance  to  learn,  we  came  to  Prague  late  at 
night  and  weary.  The  next  morning  I  awoke  with  a 
sentence  ringing  in  my  ears :  "  The  Winter  Queen — a 
sorry  history — but  so  brave — the  Winter  Queen  ! "  I 
marvelled,  for  Prague  had  held  no  message  for  me  before, 
yet  had  I  always  felt  I  needs  must  journey  back  to  the 
Czechish  city ;  and  now  this  sentence,  "  The  Winter 
Queen,"  haunted  me,  and  seemed  a  command  to  me, 
who,  then,  knew  little  of  Elizabeth  Stuart.  Perhaps  her 
spirit,  hovering  over  Bohemia,  had  come  to  order  me  to  tell 
of  her  sad  life.  Had  some  vestige  of  her  charm  lingered 
in  Prague  ?  I  know  not ;  yet  right  humbly  I  set  myself 
to  learn  the  history  of  my  "  well-beloved,  sweet,  undaunted 
lady,"  learned  it  with  a  new  thought  of  the  bravery  of 
cheerfulness  through  failure  and  sorrow.  And  here  I 
have  written  of  what  I  found  in  many  pilgrimages  through 
Germany,  Bohemia,  Holland,  and  our  own  dear  England. 
There  has  been  no  lack  of  writings  to  teach  me  her 
Majesty's  story ;  there  have  been  both  printed  books  and 
a  mass  of  MS.  letters ;  and  though  I  have  cast  my  history 
in  the  form  of  a  romance,  I  here  crave  my  readers'  kind- 
ness to  believe  that  I  have  given  as  much  study  to  my 
subject  as  though  I  had  written  a  biography.  And,  because 
I  know  out  of  my  own  curiosity  in  such  matters,  how 
when  we  read,  we  desire  to  know  if  this  or  that  is  actual 

vil 


viii  PREFACE 

fact  or  but  the  romancer's  invention,  I  must  here  affirm 
that  I  have  the  authority  of  ancient  chronicles,  of  the 
records  of  studious  searchers  through  many  archives,  or 
of  the  voice  of  legend  to  confirm  the  details,  scenes,  and 
characters  of  this  romance.  Sometimes  I  have  been 
forced  to  tell  of  hideous  things — of  sacrilege  and  blas- 
phemy, and  herein  I  have  added  nothing  to  the  telling 
of  the  contemporary  chroniclers. 

In  the  course  of  my  wanderings  it  has  been  my  good 
fortune,  by  investigation  to  prove  the  truth  of  some 
traditions.  Thus  I  found  a  few  old  men  at  Amberg  who 
remembered,  as  children,  being  taken  to  see  the  horse 
which  King  Friedrich  rode  on  his  flight  from  Rothen- 
burg  to  Amberg.  In  1620  the  citizens  had  caused  poor 
"  Hurry  "  to  be  stuffed  and  set  up  in  their  Rathaus,  and 
he  remained  there  till  1835,  but  then,  being  badly  moth- 
eaten,  he  was  destroyed.  In  the  Munich  "  Schatzkammer  " 
I  found  the  Garter  which  King  Friedrich  lost  at  the 
Strahow  Gate  after  the  battle  of  the  White  Mountain. 
The  diamond  letters  of  the  "  Honi  soit  qui  mal  y  pense " 
had  evidently  been  moved  closer  together,  in  order  to 
adjust  the  Garter  to  a  thin  leg,  and  the  marks,  where 
the  buckle  was  fastened,  are  clearly  seen.  After  months 
of  searching  I  have  been  able  to  establish  the  fact  that 
none  know,  that  even  local  tradition  in  Sedan  does  not 
whisper,  where  King  Friedrich  of  Bohemia  is  buried. 

There  remains  to  me  a  duty  which  is  a  pleasant  task : 
to  own  my  thanks  to  those  whose  courtesy  has  helped 
me  in  my  search — to  my  Lord  Earl  of  Craven,  who  gave 
me  leave  to  study  the  Craven  papers ;  to  the  authorities 
of  the  Royal  Library  at  Munich,  where  I  have  read  many 
rare  books  and  collections  of  MS.  letters  of  the  seven- 
teenth century ;  to  the  librarian  of  the  Bohemian  Museum 
at  Prague ;  and  to  the  librarian  of  the  University  Library 
at  Heidelberg. 

MARIE  HAY. 


CONTENTS 

I  CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  HER  NEW  HIGHNESS  PALATINE        ...  1 

II.  HEIDELBERG 27 

III.  QUIET  DAYS 39 

IV.  THE  FIRST  MESH  is  SPUN        ....  68 
V.  WARNING 81 

VI.  THE  WEB 95 

VII.  THE  GREAT  WAR'S  PRELUDE    .         .        .        .111 

VIII.  DEPARTURE 130 

IX.  HUMILIATION 150 

X.  KING  FRIEDRICH'S  RIDE 165 

XI.  PRAGUE 175 

XII.  THE  KING'S  VISION 203 

XIII.  THE  WHITE  MOUNTAIN    .        .        .        .        .222 

XIV.  FLIGHT 234 

XV.  HOLLAND .252 

XVI.  THE  SUPPER  IN  THE  WOOD      .         .        .         .     269 

XVII.  "  As  NEVER  MAN  HATH  LOVED  BEFORE  "         .    280 

XVIII.  THE  HERO  OF  FLEURUS    .  .297 

XIX.  FAREWELL  316 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XX.  "  IF   LOVE  BE  DEAD,   WHY  DOST  THOU  RISE, 

O  SUN?"  .        .        .        .        .        .    333 

XXI.  TIDINGS  OF  DESPAIR         .        .        .  .346 

XXII.  THE  WINTER  KING  .        .        .        .        .        .363 

XXIII.  D'ESPINAY 379 

XXIV.  HOME  403 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

THE  QUEEN  OF  BOHEMIA,  by  MIEREVELT  .  .  Frontispiece 
EQUESTRIAN  PICTURE,  by  VAN  DER  VENNE  .  .  To  face  p.  54 
DUKE  CHRISTIAN  OF  BRUNSWICK,  by  MIEREVELT  .  „  264 
THE  QUEEN  OF  BOHEMIA,  by  HONTHORST  .  .  „  347 
THE  KING  OF  BOHEMIA,  by  MIEREVELT  .  .  „  369 


2  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

procession,  would  greet  her  new  Highness  Palatine.  The 
master  of  each  guild  had  spent  both  anxious  thought  and 
hard-earned  gold  on  the  embellishment  of  his  house,  and 
not  only  upon  the  adornment  of  his  portly  spouse  and  the 
children  it  had  pleased  a  mighty  bounteous  Providence  to 
bestow  upon  him,  but  even  the  'prentice  hands  had  received 
fresh  doublets  and  feathers  for  their  caps.  Hawkers  and 
pedlars  had  reaped  a  harvest  of  small  coin  from  serving- 
wenches  and  the  wives  of  humble  artisans,  and  in  the 
neighbouring  villages  they  had  driven  a  brisk  trade  with 
the  buxom  peasant  women,  all  agog  at  the  tempting 
gaudiness  of  riband  and  rosette,  of  coloured  kerchief,  and 
of  beaded  hair-nets  woven  in  finest  silken  cord. 

Up  at  the  Castle  there  had  reigned  for  many  days  a 
turmoil  of  preparation  ;  and  all  had  toiled  in  their  degree, 
from  her  Highness  Louise  Juliane  down  to  the  meanest 
scullion  of  the  kitchen.  The  ladies  with  flying  fingers 
had  embroidered  pennants  and  emblazoned  cushions ;  the 
musicians  had  tuned  their  instruments  and  discoursed  a 
hundred  melodies  in  arduous  practice ;  the  gardeners  had 
trimmed  the  primness  of  the  Castle  gardens  till  Spring 
had  some  trouble  to  smile  through  the  strict  order  which 
made  the  trees  and  plants  seem  like  wooden  playthings ; 
the  pastrycooks  had  raised  flaky  edifices  of  delicious 
promise;  the  baker-master  had  attended  his  stupendous 
oven  continuously ;  the  cooks  and  scullions  had  builded  the 
most  savoury  pasties,  had  roasted  half  a  herd  of  oxen  and 
nigh  upon  a  flock  of  sheep ;  whilst,  had  the  poultry  which 
was  a-cooking  been  flying  over  Heidelberg,  it  would  have 
cast  a  black  shadow  from  the  many  thousand  outstretched 
wings.  The  great  Tun,  celebrated  far  and  wide  as  the 
most  enormous  wine-cask  in  the  world,  holding  as  it  did 
twenty-one  pipes  of  liquid,  had  been  filled  to  the  brim 
with  golden  Rhenish  wine,  and  had  been  set,  for  the  occa- 
sion, on  one  of  the  castle  terraces ;  while  below,  the  cellars 
had  been  stocked  anew,  barrel  upon  barrel,  to  the  vaulted 
roof;  yet  the  cellarer  was  afeared  lest  there  should  not  be 
enough,  for  there  would  be  nigh  upon  six  thousand  throats 
to  be  wetted  with  choice  vintages  during  the  coming 


HER  NEW  HIGHNESS  PALATINE  3 

festivities.  Six  thousand  guests  of  all  degrees  to  be 
feasted  for  twenty  days  at  the  expense  of  the  noble  Prince 
Palatine,  at  his  expense  and  in  his  Castle  of  Heidelberg  ! 
True,  each  day  of  the  year  did  one  thousand  persons  eat 
and  drink  from  the  bounty  of  this  most  wealthy  Prince, 
and  twice  a  year  his  Highness  bestowed  a  full  set  of 
raiment  upon  his  thousand  dependants,  not  counting,  of 
course,  the  men-at-arms  and  gentlemen  of  his  guard, 
who  lodged  for  the  most  part  below  in  the  town,  and  had 
their  armour  and  weapons,  their  rations  and  small  beer, 
at  his  Highness's  expense.  The  cellarer  was  a  troubled 
and  yet  a  proud  man,  for  who  could  boast  so  splendid  a 
charge  as  his  ?  Who  administered  such  a  quantity  of 
rare  old  Sack,  of  Tokay,  of  Malvoisie — -these  choice 
liquors  which  he  would  presently  offer  to  the  princes  and 
nobles  at  the  Palatine's  own  board  ?  Who,  save  the  Duke 
of  Wirtemberg's  cellar-master,  perchance  ?  But  then 
Stuttgart's  was  the  most  lavish  of  all  German  Courts. 
The  cellarer  sighed,  but  mentally  refused  to  vie  with 
Wirtemberg's  cellarer.  The  chief  gardener  had  also 
sighed  at  the  recollection  of  Stuttgart,  for  it  was  notorious 
that  Heidelberg  possessed  but  the  second  orangery  in 
Germany,  copied  from  that  which  Duke  Christoph  of 
Wirtemberg  had  caused  to  be  planted  in  his  Lustgarten 
many  years  since. 

Meanwhile  the  preparations  for  the  Lady  Elizabeth's 
reception  went  on  apace  and  with  unceasing  labour,  for 
the  entertainment  of  princes  means  the  toil  of  many 
menials.  And  on  this  seventh  day  of  June,  Friedrich  V. 
Prince  Palatine,  would  enter  his  town  of  Heidelberg  in 
state  with  his  bride. 

The  first  sun-rays  had  chased  away  the  demure  dawn, 
the  birds  carolled  and  twittered  in  the  formal  gardens  of 
Heidelberg  Castle,  and  with  daylight  the  toilers  redoubled 
their  efforts.  The  master  of  the  waterworks  hurried  to 
set  the  fountains  of  the  plaisance  agoing ;  gardeners 
raked  the  paths  afresh  with  wooden  rakes ;  from  behind 
the  Castle  came  the  discordant  roar  of  the  wild  animals 
in  his  Highness's  menagerie,  disturbed  by  attendants 


4  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

entering  their  cages  to  redd  up  and  make  all  fair  and 
sweet,  lest  evil  odours  should  offend  the  nostrils  of 
England's  fastidious  daughter.  With  a  burring  sound 
the  flags  on  the  Castle  towers  flung  out  on  the  fresh 
morning  breeze.  Even  the  flags  were  new,  in  honour  of 
this  grand  festival,  and  the  little  burring  sound  denoted 
the  stiffness  of  the  texture  of  the  new  silk. 

Of  a  sudden  the  toilers  were  startled  by  the  appear- 
ance from  the  Otto  Heinrich's  Bau  of  a  figure  in  sombre 
garments ;  those  who  saw  her  paused  in  their  work  and 
reverentially  doffed  their  caps,  but  she  passed  on  with 
hurried  steps  and  returned  no  word  to  their  salutation. 

"  She  is  anxious  and  af eared  of  the  English  lady,"  a 
gardener  murmured  to  his  companion,  as  the  tall  figure 
passed  them,  "  or  she  would  never  pass  us  by  ungreeted, 
for  she  is  a  very  gracious  dame,  her  Highness  Juliane." 

"  Well,  well,"  grumbled  the  other  gardener,  "  it  is  no 
marvel  if  she  wonders  what  her  son's  beloved  will  be 
like  !  I  remember  my  mother  was  in  a  mighty  pother 
when  she  first  saw  my  old  wife  ;  and  then,  this  lady  bride 
is  from  foreign  climes."  They  fell  a-gossiping  of  many 
sorry  tales  which  the  servants  who  had  attended  his 
Highness  into  England  had  brought  back  to  quiet,  orderly 
Heidelberg ;  ugly  stories,  part  true,  part  false,  retailed  in 
the  taverns  of  Westminster;  laughable  episodes  of  his 
Majesty  King  James's  spoiled  doublets;  of  how  the 
British  Solomon  slobbered  his  food  and  drink  out  of  his 
loose-lipped,  overtongued  mouth ;  hideous  insinuations 
anent  his  favourites;  exaggerated  reports  of  the  King's 
brutal  speeches,  which,  of  a  truth,  needed  no  magnifying 
to  enhance  the  original  grossness  of  James's  habitual 
sayings ;  awestruck  whispers  of  the  lavish  prodigality  and 
the  opulent  magnificence  of  Whitehall ;  of  the  drunken 
carousals  at  Theobald's. 

Her  Highness  Juliane  passed  on  unconscious  of  the 
workers'  presence ;  but  could  she  have  heard  the  men's 
talk,  gentle  lady  as  she  was,  she  would  perchance  have 
clapped  them  into  the  Hunger  Tower — "  Selten-oder- 
nimmer-leer" — as  it  was  called  from  the  grim  fact  that 


HER  NEW  HIGHNESS  PALATINE  5 

within  the  memory  of  man  it  had  never  lacked  lodgers. 
For  what  is  so  discomfiting  as  to  hear  our  most  unpleasant 
thoughts  echoed  by  the  vulgar  in  those  broad  phrases 
which  reveal  Fact  without  the  decent  raiment  of  Decep- 
tion, wherewith  the  elegant  of  the  world  clothe  the  ugly 
hag  Reality  ?  Indeed,  her  Highness's  own  mind  dwelled 
on  these  same  accounts  of  England's  ruler  and  his  abode  ; 
and  her  heart  misgave  her  when  she  recalled  the  anec- 
dotes of  the  home  of  her  son's  young  wife.  Yet  had  she, 
Juliane,  promoted  the  marriage  for  ambition's  sake,  and 
for  the  cause  of  the  Reformed  Faith ;  and  now  the  states- 
woman  and  the  stern  Calvinist  fell  back  into  the  tender 
mother,  yearning  over  her  son's  future,  craving  happiness 
for  him,  and  let  the  world  with  its  fond  dreams  of  pride 
and  avarice,  let  the  religious  factions  and  their  fiery 
theologies  go  hang !  She  longed  for  peace  and  plenty, 
for  love  and  joy  for  her  child,  and  she  agonised  in  her 
soul,  as  she  had  agonised  in  her  flesh,  when  she  had 
borne  him  eighteen  years  ago. 

She  passed  on  to  the  terrace  overlooking  the  town 
towards  Ladenburg,  and  her  eyes  strained  into  the  distance 
where  she  knew  the  company  of  travellers  must  be — 
those  splendid  travellers,  Elizabeth  Stuart  and  Friedrich, 
Prince  Palatine — coming  in  triumph  to  their  ancient 
Heidelberg.  The  Countess  Juliane  leaned  her  arms  on 
the  parapet  and  gazed  upon  the  beauty  of  the  Spring 
country.  Below  her  nestled  closely  the  red-brown  roofs  of 
the  township,  and  from  the  city's  hearths  little  spirals  of 
blue  smoke  arose,  betraying  the  preparation  of  the  burghers' 
morning  meal.  The  river  Neckar  flowed  away  in  tranquil 
beauty  between  the  gentle  rise  of  the  blossom-decked  hills. 
Ah  God !  ah  God !  would  the  English  princess  love  and 
tend  Friedrich,  the  son  of  her  love  ?  She  chid  herself 
sternly  for  her  want  of  trust  in  God,  and  her  thoughts 
turned  to  her  own  past  and  the  years  of  peace  and  happy 
love  which  had  been  hers  with  Friedrich's  father.  She 
recalled  her  entry  into  Heidelberg  twenty  years  ago ;  it 
had  been  full  summer  then,  the  white  glory  of  the  blossom 
had  passed,  and  the  trees  stood  in  all  their  pride,  rich  in 


6  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

fresh  green  foliage.  She  remembered  how  lonely  she  had 
felt,  how  young  and  uncertain,  and  how  the  pageant  had 
struck  awe  into  her  heart.  Perhaps  Elizabeth  Stuart  was 
knowing  the  same  pang  of  strangeness  ?  But  no,  she 
came  from  a  Court  where  pageants  and  pomp  were  the 
things  of  every  day ;  whereas  she,  Juliane,  had  come  from 
quiet  Holland,  where  her  life  had  been  ordered  by  the 
severe  yet  cultured  Princess  Louise  de  Coligny.  There 
it  had  been  decorum  of  life,  ruled  by  austere  though 
kindly  souls,  simplicity  and  dignity  at  once.  She  re- 
collected how  in  Heidelberg  the  constant  allusion  to  each 
noble's  genealogical  table  had  dismayed  and  puzzled  her, 
how  she  had  despaired  of  comprehending  the  subtle  dis- 
tinctions between  the  rank  of  this  Baron  and  that  Count. 
Here  all  had  been  regulated  by  prescription,  by  right  of 
ancestry  or  office,  while  Juliane  had  been  nurtured  in 
principles  of  almost  republican  equality  which  obtained 
in  the  highly  civilised  states  of  Holland ;  but  Germany, 
despite  the  wealth  of  both  noble  and  burgher,  was  less 
lettered,  and  therefore  incapable  of  easy,  refined  social 
intercourse.  In  Holland  she  had  been  used  to  daily  con- 
verse anent  learned  matters,  for  Louise  de  Coligny  had 
brought  some  of  the  elegant  erudition  of  France  to  the 
Hague.  In  Heidelberg  Juliane  had  found  constant 
banqueting,  much  talk  of  the  chase,  varied  at  best  by 
fierce  polemics ;  but  learning  and  culture  hid  in  the 
universities,  and  their  votaries  conversed  in  Latin,  leaving 
the  German  tongue  to  the  unlettered.  Thus  she  had 
found  little  or  no  traffic  of  the  mind  in  her  new  surround- 
ings. Ah  well !  things  had  changed  somewhat  since 
then,  and  she  reflected  that  Elizabeth  nowadays  would 
find  at  least  as  polished  a  court  in  Heidelberg  as  she  had 
left  in  England,  albeit  the  pomp  and  splendour  were  less. 
And  Friedrich  ?  She  had  reared  him  strictly  in  the  stern 
rule  of  Calvin  ;  all  who  had  leaned  to  the  laxer  teachings 
of  Luther  had  been  banished  ;  no  Lutheran  tract  or  treatise 
had  been  permitted  in  the  Palatinate,  and  she  had  caused 
those  harbouring  such  light  literature  to  be  fined,  and  the 
odious  writings  to  be  burned  by  the  common  hangman. 


HER  NEW  HIGHNESS  PALATINE  7 

Yet  was  Friedrich,  withal,  no  unpolished  dullard.  She  had 
sent  him  to  France  to  learn  the  elegancy  of  life.  God 
alone  knew  what  it  had  cost  her  to  part  with  her  son  for 
so  much  of  his  youth,  but  she  had  permitted  and  en- 
couraged his  prolonged  residence  at  Sedan  with  her 
sister's  husband,  that  proud  Due  de  Bouillon,  the  pattern 
of  Protestant  princes,  an  ornament,  despite  his  austerity, 
of  the  gay  court  of  France. 

Yes,  Friedrich  was  a  courtly  gentleman.  Would  she 
love  him  —  this  English  Princess  ?  "  Ah  God  !  just 
Judge,"  she  prayed,  "  if  it  be  Thy  will,  give  him  happi- 
ness. Give  my  son  joy  and  content — if  it  be  for  his 
salvation,"  she  added  hastily,  the  habit  of  the  Calvinistic 
conscience  coming  to  correct  the  human  passion  of 
tenderness  which  surged  in  the  mother's  heart.  "  If  it 
be  Thy  will,  joy  and  content — if  it  be  Thy  will."  For  a 
moment  she  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  shutting 
out  the  glory  of  Spring.  Somewhere  below  in  the  plain, 
which  spread  in  blue  and  hazy  distance  beyond  the  en- 
circling hills,  there  rang  out  a  fanfare  of  trumpets,  and 
at  the  same  moment  behind  her  she  heard  the  clatter  of 
horses'  hoofs.  She  raised  her  head  to  listen,  and,  turn- 
ing, saw  a  line  of  grooms  leading  richly  caparisoned 
steeds  from  the  stables  across  the  inner  moat  towards 
the  castle  courtyard.  The  horses  of  the  princes  sojourn- 
ing at  Heidelberg  for  the  festivities  were  being  led  to 
their  noble  riders,  who  would  forthwith  mount  and  pro- 
ceed to  meet  the  Palsgrave  and  his  bride  at  the  outskirts 
of  the  little  city  of  Ladenburg,  where,  forming  into  a 
magnificent  procession,  they  would  escort  the  bridal  pair 
into  Heidelberg. 

The  Countess  Juliane  sighed ;  it  irked  her  to  reflect 
upon  the  hundred  ceremonies  Friedrich  and  the  Lady 
Elizabeth  would  pass  through  ere  she  beheld  them.  She 
had  waited  calmly  during  the  long  months  since  her 
son's  nuptials  in  England,  but  her  impatience  had  grown 
with  every  sunrise,  and  while  Elizabeth  had  tarried  in 
Holland  with  her  husband's  uncle,  Prince  Maurice  of 
Orange,  it  had  seemed  to  Juliane  as  if  each  day  had 


8  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

learned  a  slower  tread  than  the  preceding  span ;  and  now 
she  was  aware  of  the  awful  length  of  hours,  the  cruel 
slowness  of  minutes. 

A  cavalcade  clattered  across  the  drawbridge  of  the 
inner  moat  towards  the  narrow  gateway  of  the  outer  wall. 
A  company  of  princes  it  was  for  the  most  part.  First 
rode  his  Highness  the  Duke  of  Zweibrlicken,  who  by 
virtue  of  his  close  kinship  had  been  the  Administrator  of 
the  Palatinate,  a  title  he  still  bore  pending  Prince  Fried- 
rich's  attainment  of  his  majority.  There  rode  old  Duke 
Christian  of  Anhalt,  stern  warrior,  and  ruthless  antagonist 
of  the  House  of  Hapsburg.  Then  came  the  magnificent 
Duke  of  Wirtemberg  and  his  brothers ;  and,  gayer  than 
all,  Duke  Magnus  of  Wirtemberg,  a  thoughtless  youth, 
famous  at  the  German  Courts  for  his  pranks  and  clown- 
like  pleasantries.  Prince  Louis  Philip,  Count  Palatine, 
Juliane's  youngest  son,  rode  beside  Prince  Christian  the 
younger  of  Anhalt,  and  the  Markgraves  of  Anspach  and 
Brandenburg ;  then  there  were  my  Lords  of  Handschuhs- 
heim,  of  Hirshhorn,  of  Minneburg,  of  Zwingenberg ;  and 
that  Count  of  Steinach  whose  forbears  had  won  by  their 
robber  deeds  the  proud  title  of  Landschad  (land-despoiler), 
a  grim  name  now  borne  as  a  mark  of  high  and  old  nobility. 
There,  too,  was  the  Count  of  Diebsberg,  descendant  of 
another  famous  robber  baron,  as  the  name  denotes.  The 
cortege  was  followed  by  a  troop  of  pages  and  esquires, 
cadets  of  noble  families. 

Juliane  heard  the  younger  men's  voices  raised  in 
pleasantry;  through  the  filmy  tracery  of  the  leaves  of 
the  beech  trees  at  the  end  of  the  terrace  she  saw  the 
flash  of  burnished  breastplates,  for  the  riders  Avere  all  in 
full  battle  array  in  honour  of  the  mock  warfare  which 
would  be  the  chief  feature  of  Elizabeth's  reception.  Her 
face  darkened,  for  she  hated  and  despised  sham  battles, 
feared  them,  too,  since  the  day  her  husband's  young  kins- 
man and  friend,  Louis  Philip,  the  namesake  of  that  gay 
young  prince  just  ridden  by,  had  received  his  death- 
wound  in  a  tourney  here  at  Heidelberg.  She  shuddered 
when  she  recalled  the  dark  hours  she  had  spent,  when, 


HER  NEW  HIGHNESS  PALATINE  9 

still  weak  from  childbirth,  she  had  attended  the  gorgeous 
festivities,  and  had  witnessed  the  sinister  ending  of  that 
fine  tournament  given  in  the  babe's  honour.  All  the 
superstitious  terrors  of  that  omen-tortured  age  had  rioted 
in  the  young  mother's  soul,  and  when,  two  days  after  the 
prince's  death,  a  furious  earthquake  had  caused  the 
towers  of  Heidelberg  to  rock  and  sway,  she  had  responded 
by  an  agony  of  fear  to  the  stern  preachings  of  the  Calvin- 
ist  divines,  who  had  thundered  warning  and  condemna- 
tion upon  the  light  pleasures  of  mock  battles,  of  earthly 
pomp,  and  boisterous  feastings,  calling  the  prince's  death 
a  just  retribution  for  such  sinful  joustings,  and  affirming 
the  earthquake  to  be  a  portent  of  the  righteous  wrath  of 
an  outraged  God. 

She  asked  herself  now  if  these  ceremonious  rejoicings, 
this  display  of  human  power  and  splendour,  this  magni- 
ficent panoply  of  warfare  exhibited  for  the  lust  of  earthly 
pomp  were  not  an  insult  to  God,  a  thing  of  evil  import, 
a  dire  offence  ?  And  for  this  fool  feasting,  for  these 
hollow  glories,  was  her  Friedrich  risking  the  happy  pre- 
sage of  his  youthful  joy  ? 

Below  in  the  town  the  clock  of  the  Heilig  Geist 
Church  tolled  the  hour.  Juliane  started.  Could  it  be  so 
late  ?  She  marvelled  that  the  leaden-footed  hours  had 
passed  so  swiftly.  Once  more  she  chid  herself  for  a 
timorous  woman,  weak  in  trust  of  the  Almighty's  clem- 
ency, for  she  clung  to  the  mercy  of  God  although  she  had 
been  taught  to  remember  chiefly  His  wrath  and  His  eter- 
nal vengeance.  With  an  effort  she  withdrew  her  thoughts 
from  doleful  ponderings,  and  turning  from  the  terrace 
parapet  she  walked  rapidly  through  the  narrow  garden, 
past  the  Hunger  Thurm,  and  over  the  inner  drawbridge 
into  the  courtyard.  Everywhere  she  was  met  with  venera- 
tion, even  the  sentries  at  the  gate  received  her  not  only 
with  the  ordinary  salute  of  honour,  but  with  friendly 
though  respectful  greeting.  She  was  not  proud,  this 
noble  Princess  of  Orange,  save  with  that  unconscious 
pride  of  dignity,  which  the  humble  and  the  simple  love 
and  answer  to  with  freely  given  reverence  and  good  affec- 


10  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

tion.  God  wot !  her  Highness  could  reprove  and  utterly 
discomfit  a  forward  wench,  a  pert  youth,  or  a  presumptu- 
ous burgher ;  but  with  the  simple  she  was  simple,  be  they 
soldier  or  serving-maid,  prince  or  noble  dame. 

Now,  having  banished  dark  thoughts  and  forebodings, 
her  quick  and  housewifely  eye  probed  each  detail  of 
domestic  labour.  She  cast  a  searching  glance  round  the 
courtyard,  reproved  a  slatternly  serving-man  who  had 
spilled  water  from  the  fountain  on  to  the  steps  of  the 
Otto  Heinrich's  Bau ;  inquired  why  a  dirty  clout  fluttered 
from  one  of  the  windows  of  the  "  Kemenate  " ;  sent  an 
urgent  message  to  the  kitchen  desiring  the  master  of  the 
roast  to  watch,  lest  some  careless  turnspit  should  allow 
burning  fat  to  fester  on  the  bars  of  the  huge  open  fire- 
place and  diffuse  ill  odours  through  the  yard.  "  Must 
her  new  Highness  Palatine  be  greeted  with  the  ugly 
stench  of  roasting  viands  as  though  she  entered  a  tavern 
instead  of  her  own  castle  ?  "  she  queried.  "  She,  to  whom 
I  would  offer  only  the  fragrance  of  roses  to  perfume  all 
her  days  and  fill  her  soul  with  sweetness,"  she  murmured 
to  herself  as  she  passed  on. 

In  the  Friedrich's  Bau,  where  lay  the  lodging  of  the 
Lady  Elizabeth,  all  appeared  well  and  duly  ordered.  The 
Countess  Juliane  shrank  momentarily  from  a  sharp  stab 
of  memory  as  she  beheld  the  spacious  apartments,  for 
here  had  she  dwelt  for  many  years  until  a  few  weeks 
back,  when  she  had  changed  her  domicile  to  the  Otto 
Heinrich's  Bau.  She  had  not  lived  here  as  a  young 
bride,  for  the  Friedrich's  Bau  had  been  built  by  her 
husband's  command  in  the  halcyon  days  of  their  wedded 
life ;  but  she  had  spent  a  few  years  with  her  spouse  in 
peace  in  this  fair  dwelling-place ;  and  the  solemn  hours 
of  her  widow's  mourning  had  been  passed  here.  She 
felt  as  though  her  grief  and  sorrowful  communings  had 
consecrated  these  walls,  and  turned  each  chamber  into  a 
quiet  sanctuary.  Yet  she  had  deemed  this  more  sump- 
tuous habitation  to  be  better  fitted  for  the  reigning 
Princess  Palatine  than  for  the  deposed  chatelaine,  and 
no  jealous  pang  had  stirred  in  her  when  she  had  owned 


HER  NEW  HIGHNESS  PALATINE          11 

herself  dethroned.  Friedrich's  wife  could  not  appear  to 
her  as  an  usurper,  but  as  a  rightful  ruler  come  to  claim 
her  own  glad  heritage.  Still  Julian e  had  grieved  at 
leaving  her  abode,  and  she  sighed  as  she  passed  through 
the  rooms. 

The  windows  of  the  Lady  Elizabeth's  apartments  lay  in 
shadow,  and  the  Countess  Juliane  consulted  her  memory 
anxiously  as  to  whether  the  sun  would  shine  into  the 
rooms  at  the  hour  of  her  new  Highness  Palatine's  arrival. 
Surely  yes,  at  midday  the  Friedrich's  Bau  was  wont  to 
be  flooded  with  sunshine.  She  rejoiced  that  it  should 
be  so. 

Her  Highness's  rooms  were  four  in  number,  and  led 
from  the  broad,  marbled  corridor  looking  out  on  the 
courtyard,  whilst  the  chamber-windows  opened  on  to  a 
grand  view  of  terraced  garden,  and  far  below  the  deep 
valley  with  the  red  roofs  of  the  city  houses ;  then,  the 
tranquil  progress  of  the  river  Neckar ;  and  beyond,  as  a 
boundary  to  vision,  the  long  line  of  the  blossom-covered 
Heiligenberg. 

The  Countess  Juliane  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  window 
of  the  first  room,  or  ante-hall,  where  the  gentlemen  and 
pages  of  the  suite  were  wont  to  wait.  On  the  broad, 
open  hearth  there  blazed  a  fire  of  beech  logs,  for  albeit 
June  had  come,  Spring  had  been  but  a  tardy  visitant  that 
year,  and  a  chill  lingered  over  the  world.  Juliane  passed 
into  her  Highness's  own  antechamber,  destined  for  the 
use  of  the  ladies  of  Elizabeth's  suite,  a  splendid  room 
enough,  with  marbled  floor  and  panelled  walls.  A  high 
green  porcelain  stove  stood  in  one  corner,  and  here  was  a 
niche  between  the  stove  and  the  wall  with  a  quaint  seat 
wrought  in  the  same  coloured  faience,  where  Friedrich  as 
a  little  boy  had  loved  to  sit,  cowering  close  to  the  warmth 
on  winter  evenings.  She  had  rallied  him  often,  calling 
him  "  Master  Dormouse,"  "  Little  Prince  Shiverkin,"  and 
the  like ;  but  her  ladies  had  ever  prayed  her  spare  him 
to  them,  vowing  that  he  was  better  than  any  troubadour 
of  old,  and  that  he  told  them  wondrous  tales  of  martial 
deeds  while  he  sat  so  warmly  in  the  stove  corner.  Ah  ! 


12  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

he  had  been  a  winsome  child,  her  Friedrich ;  sure  the 
English  Princess  must  needs  love  him  now  that  he  had 
reached  so  fair  a  manhood  ? 

She  went  on  into  her  Highness's  audience-chamber 
and  withdrawing-room,  a  gorgeous  apartment  with  glow- 
ing tapestries  on  the  walls  between  the  panels.  Tall 
carven  chairs  with  cushioned  seats  stood  here,  and  before 
one  was  a  small  tabouret  with  a  silk-embroidered  centre, 
which  Friedrich  himself  had  commanded  to  be  placed 
before  her  Highness's  chair,  having  seen  such  conceits 
in  Danish  Anne's  luxurious  apartments  at  Westminster. 
The  last  room  of  the  suite  was  the  Lady  Elizabeth's 
bedchamber,  and,  as  Juliane  entered,  it  struck  her  as  of 
happy  augury  that  the  room  was  flooded  with  sunshine. 
It  faced  north-east,  and  thus  the  sun  on  his  progress  had 
hastened  to  smile  into  the  Princess's  apartments.  So 
Juliane  told  herself,  with  that  touch  of  poetic  exaggera- 
tion which  lives  for  ever  in  the  soul  of  one  to  whom  God 
has  vouchsafed  the  gift  of  deep  affection,  be  it  a  lover 
extolling  his  beloved,  or  a  mother  yearning  over  her 
child's  happiness.  Her  Highness's  sleeping-chamber  was 
hung  with  golden  brocade,  and  the  four-poster  bed  was 
sheltered  by  silken  curtains  of  golden  damask.  Here, 
too,  on  the  wide  hearth  beech  logs  flamed. 

Juliane  bent  with  an  impulse  of  tenderness  and  laid 
her  lips  on  the  stiffly  embroidered  coverlet  upon  the  bed. 
In  that  mother-kiss  she  gave  a  welcome  and  a  blessing 
to  the  stranger — to  the  English  Princess,  in  whose  hands 
was  Friedrich 's  destiny,  and  in  whose  keeping  was  the 
faithful  love  of  his  heart  as  Juliane  had  seen  both  by  her 
son's  letters  from  England,  and  by  his  words  and  actions 
during  the  hasty  visit  he  had  paid  to  Heidelberg  to 
inspect  the  arrangements  for  his  bride's  reception. 
Opening  a  narrow  door,  Juliane  looked  into  her  High- 
ness's  closet  or  tiring-room.  Here  stood  the  silver  wash- 
ing vessels  which  the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon  had  sent  out 
of  France,  the  basin  and  ewer,  the  chased  perfume-flagons 
and  hairbrushes. 

All  was  in  order  for  the  Pearl  of  England's  reception. 


HER  NEW  HIGHNESS  PALATINE          13 

Once  more  Juliane  gazed  from  the  window  on  the  familiar 
landscape.  "  It  is  very  fair,  this  land,"  she  told  herself; 
"  will  she  love  it  too,  and  give  my  son  content  in  the 
home  of  his  fathers  ? " 

As  she  gazed  at  the  smiling  valley  she  reflected  that, 
perhaps,  Spring  had  waited  so  that  his  masterpiece  of 
bloom  should  be  still  there  for  the  land's  greeting  to 
Elizabeth  Stuart.  "  A  fitting  bridal  wreath  on  hill  and 
vale ;  a  right  fair  coronal  for  my  sweet  Friedrich's  love  ! " 
she  murmured,  as  she  gazed  on  the  white  beauty  of  the 
blossom-crowned  country. 

"  Madame ! "  a  voice  broke  in  on  her  reverie — 
"  Madame,  despite  your  orders  to  be  undisturbed  this 
morning,  I  must  e'en  venture  to  recall  the  hour  to  you." 

It  was  one  of  her  ladies  who  stood  beside  her.  "  Be  not 
angered,  Madame,  for  indeed  the  day  grows  apace,  and 
it  is  time  your  Highness  robed  herself  for  the  procession." 

"  Is  it  so  late  ?  Come,  let  us  hasten,"  Juliane  answered 
gently.  "  It  is  a  very  fair  and  gracious  day  to  me  when 
I  can  hasten  to  meet  my  Friedrich's  well-beloved  lady." 

In  the  town  of  Heidelberg  excitement  and  ex- 
pectation had  reached  a  point  of  strained  attention 
which  was  almost  anguish.  Not  alone  was  it  the 
curiosity  of  a  gaping  crowd  which  would  be  satisfied  by 
the  sight  of  a  splendid  pageant,  it  was  the  anxious  ex- 
pectation of  a  people  to  behold  a  princess  upon  whose 
goodwill  much  of  their  future  welfare  depended;  and 
more,  it  was  the  affectionate  solicitude  of  loyal  friends 
and  trusty  retainers  seeing  for  the  first  time  the  woman 
destined  to  make  or  mar  the  happiness  of  a  beloved  lord 
and  ruler.  Friedrich  of  the  Palatinate  was  the  cherished 
jewel  of  his  people;  they  had  seen  him  grow  from  in- 
fancy to  manhood ;  they  had  grieved  with  the  Countess 
Juliane  during  his  absences  at  Sedan;  they  had  wel- 
comed him  on  his  return,  marking  with  interest  his 
growth,  and  sharing  the  mother's  pride  in  the  debonair 
youth's  progress.  His  father,  Friedrich  IV.,  had  been  an 
honoured  and  much  mourned  master,  but  Friedrich  V. 


14  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

was  the  son  of  the  people's  affection.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
critical  audience  before  which  Elizabeth  Stuart  was  to 
play  the  first  act  of  her  life's  drama.  True,  she  had  sus- 
tained a  prominent  rule  in  that  gorgeous  prologue,  the 
pageantry  in  England,  but  that  had  been  among  her  own 
people  and  in  a  familiar  setting,  where  folks  forgot  to 
note  the  chief  actors  in  their  wonder  at  the  lavish  costli- 
ness of  the  mounting  of  the  play. 

In  spite  of  the  gloom  which  the  death  of  Prince 
Henry,  James's  eldest  son,  the  "  verrie  deere  brother  and 
firm  friend  "  of  Elizabeth  Stuart,  had  cast  over  England, 
the  wedding  festivities  had  been  on  a  scale  of  mag- 
nificence which  had  not  only  appalled  the  Puritans,  but 
even  the  nobles  and  courtiers  had  stood  aghast  at  so 
vast  an  outlay  of  state-needed  gold.  One  hundred  and 
forty  thousand  pounds  were  reported  to  have  been  spent 
upon  the  espousals  alone,  and  the  Lady  Elizabeth's 
dowry  had  doubled  that  sum.  It  was  whispered  that 
her  Highness's  wedding  raiment  had  cost  a  duke's 
revenue;  her  white  satin  gown  had  been  so  heavily 
broidered  in  silver  that  she  could  scarce  stand ;  upon  her 
head  she  had  borne  a  crown  of  refined  gold  studded  and 
embossed  with  giant  pearls  and  diamonds,  standing  like 
shining  pinnacles  over  her  "  deep  amber-coloured  "  hair, 
which  had  hung  in  massive  plaits  to  her  waist,  and 
between  the  braiding  of  each  plait  had  been  chains  of 
gold,  pearls,  diamonds,  and  rubies.  The  Puritans  had 
said  bitterly  that  the  British  Solomon  had  outdone  the 
King  of  Israel  in  his  glory,  even  if  he  could  not  hence- 
forward lay  claim  to  the  wisdom  of  the  Jewish  monarch ! 
James  had  shambled  through  the  ceremonies  with  jewels 
about  his  neck  and  on  his  breast  worth  a  hundred  thousand 
pounds  ;  while  Anne  of  Denmark  had  shone  modestly  in 
gems  valued  at  a  trifling  four  hundred  thousand  pounds. 
The  wedding  anthem  had  been :  "  Blessed  is  he  that 
feareth  the  Lord,"  and  the  Puritans  had  murmured  that 
the  God-fearing  man  did  not  waste  his  substance  upon 
earthly  pomp,  upon  gauds  and  shining  baubles.  Yet 
even  they,  the  stern,  cruel  men  who  had  hounded  Marie 


HER  NEW  HIGHNESS  PALATINE          15 

Stuart  to  imprisonment  and  death,  had  well-nigh  par- 
doned James  for  his  prodigality  when  they  had  re- 
membered Elizabeth's  mission  upon  earth ;  and  those 
who  had  seen  her  had  joined  in  the  eulogy  of  her 
beauty,  that  heavenly  radiance  which  they  averred  shone 
from  her  face  and  betokened  the  especial  grace  of  God. 
Already  all  men,  even  the  Puritans,  fell  under  the  magic 
of  her  smile,  though  they  ascribed  their  faltering  to  the 
divine  favour  impressed  upon  one  destined  to  serve 
God's  elect,  and  to  further  the  uprooting  of  the  Church 
of  Antichrist. 

Thus  England  had  sent  forth  her  royal  daughter  with 
a  very  halo  of  romance,  an  almost  legendary  splendour 
of  unparalleled  magnificence  calculated  to  stir  the 
imagination  of  all  Europe. 

The  grave  burghers  of  Heidelberg  were  well  aware  of 
the  political  importance  of  their  Prince's  union ;  the 
sincere  votaries  of  the  Reformed  Faith  looked  upon  it  as 
an  earnest  of  the  triumph  of  Calvin's  doctrines.  To 
them,  as  to  the  English  Puritans,  she  was  God's  own 
chosen  handmaiden,  the  especial  instrument  of  destiny. 

To  the  good  people  of  the  Palatinate  she  was  their 
new  lady,  the  consort  of  a  beloved  ruler ;  to  the  youthful 
members  of  the  community  she  seemed  a  queen  of 
romance  stepped  living  from  one  of  those  fond  histories 
of  doughty  deeds,  chivalrous  knights,  fair  ladyes, 
passionate  devotion,  and  glorious -gallantry — those  sweet 
and  merry  stories  so  harshly  banished  from  the  dull 
shelves  of  the  Calvinists'  libraries,  but  enshrined  in  the 
hearts  of  all  romantic  youths. 

Elizabeth  Stuart's  journey  from  England  commenced 
on  the  twenty-first  day  of  April,  but  the  elements  rose  in 
anger  when  the  Pearl  of  England  was  ravished  from  her 
"  ain  countree  "  ;  in  other  words,  a  furious  storm  drove  the 
fleet  back  to  theBritish  coast,  and  it  was  only  on  the  twenty- 
eighth  day  that  her  Highness  was  safely  landed  in  Holland. 
Prince  Maurice  of  Orange,  more  solicitous  than  Elizabeth's 
own  father,  who  by  that  time  was  returned  to  his  orgies 
at  Theobald's, had  despatched  one  Master  Samuel  More,  his 


16  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

chief  navigator,  to  pilot  her  Highness's  ships  through  the 
dangerous  sandbanks  and  hidden  shoals  off  the  Dutch 

O 

coast,  and  the  gallant  company  had  arrived  without 
mishap.  Nevertheless  there  were  not  wanting  in  doleful 
presagers  who  whispered  that  to  be  obliged  to  turn  back 
on  a  voyage  was  an  ill  omen ;  but  these  sinister  rumours 
were  forgotten  in  the  rejoicings  which  Prince  Maurice 
and  the  States  of  Holland  offered  in  homage  to  the 
splendid  wayfarers.  It  seemed  as  though  Prince  Maurice, 
who  usually  affected  an  almost  boorish  simplicity 
of  dress  and  manners,  had  fallen  from  the  outset 
under  Elizabeth  Stuart's  spell ;  and  the  Dutch  burghers 
and  substantial  merchants  followed  their  Stadthouder's 
example,  and  rendered  an  almost  frenzied  homage  to  the 
English  Princess.  Banquets  and  processions,  music,  and 
representations  of  French  comedies  were  the  order  of  the 
hour;  and,  what  pleased  her  Highness  more  than  these,  a 
succession  of  hunting-parties,  where  Elizabeth  herself 
shot  several  stags.  Her  prowess  was  duly  recorded  in 
the  chronicles  of  the  day  in  France,  Germany,  and  Eng- 
land, wherein  she  was  lauded  as  a  very  Diana. 
Seemingly  Prince  Maurice  of  Orange  could  not  part 
with  his  young  kinswoman,  and  Friedrich,  having 
hurried  on  to  Heidelberg  to  inspect  the  arrangements 
for  Elizabeth's  home-coming,  Prince  Maurice  gallantly 
escorted  her  through  the  States  and  into  Germany.  At 
every  town  she  was  feasted  and  sumptuously  entertained, 
and  each  city  vied  with  the  other  in  the  lavishness  of  their 
gifts  and  the  prolixity  of  their  orations  in  her  honour. 
At  length,  having  reached  Cologne  with  his  fair  charge, 
Prince  Maurice  took  his  leave,  and  Elizabeth  continued 
her  progress  unattended,  save  by  the  hundred  and 
eighty-eight  persons  she  had  brought  with  her  out  of 
England.  The  roads  being  notoriously  unfit  for  heavy 
coaches,  it  was  decided  at  Cologne  that  her  Highness 
should  proceed  by  ship  up  the  Rhine.  When  she 
approached  the  water's  edge  she  found  no  ordinary  State 
vessels,  but  a  fairy  fleet,  awaiting  her.  Elizabeth's  own 
barge  was  built  in  the  shape  of  an  altar,  a  gilded  lion 


HER  NEW  HIGHNESS  PALATINE          17 

stood  at  the  prow,  and  a  golden  figure  representing 
Fortuna  was  at  the  stern.  The  sails  were  of  golden 
damask ;  the  flags  of  red,  gold,  and  blue  silk,  grandly 
broidered  with  the  arms  of  England.  A  royal-blue 
pennant  fluttered  over  her  Highness's  baldaquin,  with 
the  device,  "  Honi  soit  qui  mal  y  pense."  Blue  and 
crimson  velvet  hangings  and  carpets  covered  the  bows  and 
deck,  and  the  roof  of  the  baldaquin  was  of  blue  velvet  to 
represent  the  sky,  and  the  stars  thereon  were  wrought  in 
pure  gold,  This  magic  barge  was  followed  by  three  other 
fine  ships  for  the  accommodation  of  her  Highness's  suite. 

In  stately  procession  the  fleet  sailed  up  the  Rhine. 
Fortunately  for  the  voyagers  in  their  sumptuous  barges 
the  heavens  smiled,  and  neither  rain  nor  wind  came  to 
destroy  the  beauty  of  Friedrich's  extravagant  homage; 
and  Elizabeth  could  thrill  at  the  poetical  devotion  of 
so  romantically  lavish  a  lord  and  lover.  Her  Highness 
observed  that  her  fairy  fleet  was  followed  by  a  substantial 
vessel  of  unpretending  dimensions  and  with  no  fairy-like 
adornments,  but  solid  and  well  covered ;  and  it  caused 
her  to  smile  when  she  was  told  that  the  Countess  Juliane 
had  despatched  this  craft,  unknown  to  Fried  rich,  fearing 
lest  the  weather  should  prove  inclement,  and  Elizabeth 
should  be  rewarded  with  drenched  raiment  for  her  trust 
in  her  love-sick  lord's  arrangements. 

Yet,  despite  the  smiles  of  the  heavens,  the  splendour  of 
the  progress,  the  constant  pleasure  of  hearing  and  re- 
sponding to  the  orations  which  city  and  even  village 
magnates  proclaimed  from  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  to  the 
slow-moving  and  constantly  hindered  fairy  fleet,  the  Lady 
Elizabeth  had  grown  right  weary  of  ceremony  and  travel ; 
and  even  the  converse  of  her  honoured  companions,  the 
Earl  and  Countess  of  Harrington,  the  noble  Duke  of 
Lennox,  Viscount  Leslie,  Lord  Arundell,  Sir  Edward 
Cecil,  and  of  her  own  close  friend  Mistress  Anne  Dudley, 
failed  to  relieve  the  tedium  of  the  protracted  journey. 
When,  on  a  sudden,  through  the  flowering  fields  near 
Bacharach,  a  group  of  gaily  attired  horsemen  appeared 
on  the  river  banks,  and  Friedrich  Prince  Palatine,  weary 

B 


18  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

of  ceremonies  and  impatient  to  behold  his  loved  lady,  had 
ridden  forth  to  greet  her.  The  fairy  fleet  hove  to,  and  his 
Highness  boarded  the  royal  barge. 

"  My  lord !  my  lord !  this  is  indeed  a  happy  day," 
Elizabeth  said,  and  a  trifle  abashed  she  was  at  this  amor- 
ous impatience  shown  before  so  mighty  a  concourse  of 
people,  and  in  the  midst  of  so  ceremonious  a  progress. 

"  Be  not  wroth,  sweet  queen  of  my  heart,"  he  whis- 
pered; "  I  could  wait  no  longer  !  Methought  the  day  had 
a  hundred  hours,  and  the  night  a  million  years  while  I 
was  far  from  you,"  and  he  drew  her,  unresisting,  into  her 
curtained  baldaquin. 

Perhaps  because  all  the  world  loves  a  lover,  and  the 
human  heart  is  ever  stirred  by  the  homage  of  a  fine  youth 
for  his  beloved,  the  enthusiasm  for  the  Lady  Elizabeth 
was  increased  tenfold  by  the  rumour  that  her  deeply 
enamoured  spouse  had  broken  the  bonds  of  ceremony 
and  flown  to  meet  his  love.  Popular  acclamation  re- 
doubled, and  the  citizens  of  each  town  through  which  the 
bridal  cortege  passed  grew  more  than  ever  vociferous  in 
plaudits,  more  lavish  in  costly  gifts;  and,  alas!  waxed 
more  profuse  in  oration  and  laudatory  verse.  Oppenheim, 
the  first  Palatine  city  which  Elizabeth  entered,  outdid  all 
other  towns  in  music,  garlands,  quaint  processions,  trium- 
phal arches,  banquets,  and— orations,  until  her  Highness 
was  near  done  to  death  by  too  much  kindness  !  Still 
love,  the  sun,  and  the  spring  country  smiled,  and  the 
world  seemed  very  fair  to  her. 

And  on  this  seventh  day  of  June  she  was  to  enter  Heidel- 
berg. It  was  whispered  through  the  waiting  crowd  that 
though  Prince  Friedrich  had  dutifully  returned  from 
Oppenheim  according  to  ancient  custom  to  receive  his 
bride  in  state  upon  her  entry  into  his  domains,  he  had 
hastened  to  his  beloved  secretly  the  preceding  night,  and 
though  he  would  greet  her  formally  at  Ladenburg  he  had 
not  ridden  forth  that  morning  from  Heidelberg  with  the 
other  princes ;  and,  in  truth,  he  would  but  have  quitted 
the  Lady  Elizabeth  for  a  few  short  hours  before  he  bade 
her  welcome  publicly.  This  delighted  the  public  exceed- 


HER  NEW  HIGHNESS  PALATINE          19 

ingly ;  the  maidens  sighed  and  wished  for  themselves  so 
ardent  a  lover ;  the  old  dames  smiled  and  recalled  their 
own  long- vanished  courting  days ;  while  the  men  pondered 
on  how  sweet  a  lady  this  must  be  for  a  man  to  love  her 
so  madly. 

At  last  there  fell  on  the  listening  ears  the  boom  of 
cannon,  the  royal  salute  at  Ladenburg.  Again  and 
again  Echo  caught  the  sound  and  rolled  it  round  in  rum- 
bling grandeur  between  the  hills.  Now,  on  a  sudden, 
there  was  a  loud  blast  of  trumpets  in  the  valley  near  by, 
and  my  Lord  Seneschal  appeared  with  two  hundred  red- 
clad,  mounted  lackeys  and  finely  habited  equerries  to  clear 
the  way  for  the  procession.  The  Lord  Chief  Huntsman 
followed  with  a  goodly  company  of  green-coated  hunters, 
hawkers,  and  falconers.  The  Palatine's  chief  retainers 
marched  next,  with  gilded  badges  on  their  caps  and 
scarves  of  sky-blue  silk  across  their  breasts.  Then  rode 
a  bevy  of  nobles  of  the  land  in  full  battle  array,  with 
clank  of  steel  and  martial  air,  each  lord,  as  in  another 
age,  preceded  by  his  squire  bearing  a  banner  emblazoned 
with  heraldic  devices.  There  were  the  Counts  of  Hohen- 
lohe,  of  Nassau,  of  Sarbriicken,  of  Witgenstein,  of  Lb'wen- 
stein,  and  many  other  proud  nobles  of  Germany,  riding 
splendid,  richly  caparisoned  steeds.  Lesser  nobles  followed 
— a  brave  and  merry  train.  After  these,  in  companies, 
the  followers  of  each  prince:  of  the  young  princes  of 
Wirtemberg,  of  Anhalt,  of  the  Rhenish  Palatinate,  of 
Brandenburg,  Anspach,  Baden,  and  the  rest,  in  the  liveries 
and  uniforms  of  each  royal  house.  There  came  bands 
of  trumpeters  and  several  regiments  of  musketeers,  of 
halberdiers,  and  mounted  soldiery;  and  if  these  were 
for  the  most  part  mercenaries  and  professional  adven- 
turers it  mattered  not,  they  made  a  gallant  show.  Again 
a  body  of  trumpeters  marched  past,  and  then  there 
rode  the  heralds  wearing  the  sumptuous  red  and  gold 
embroidered  tabards  of  their  office.  After  these  came  a 
troop  of  horsemen  armed  cap-a-pie  in  burnished  steel ; 
and  then,  slowly,  a  great  gilded  coach  hove  in  sight.  A 
breathless  stillness  fell  on  the  crowd,  an  almost  awestruck 


20  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

silence,  for  now  that  the  long-awaited  moment  was  at 
hand  it  seemed  sudden — startling.  The  swaying  vehicle 
with  its  snow-white  horses  came  slowly  onward. 

"  Keep  back  from  the  coach's  window,  dear  Pfalzgraf," 
called  an  aged  gaffer.  "  Keep  back,  your  dear  High- 
ness, that  we  may  see  your  lady's  face." 

And  Prince  Friedrich,  sweeping  his  plumed  hat  from 
his  head  in  a  courtly  salute,  cried  loudly :  "  Ye  do  well, 
my  friends,  to  wish  to  see  our  fair  pearl  of  loveliness ! " 
and  he  reined  back  his  prancing  steed  from  beside  the 
coach-window  so  that  Elizabeth's  sweet,  haunting  face 
was  seen  by  all.  There  came  a  sigh  of  very  wonder 
from  all  beholders,  a  moment's  stillness  as  of  prayer,  then 
from  ten  thousand  lips  a  cry  burst  forth :  "  Hail !  hail ! 
Elizabeth !  Hail  to  the  Pearl  of  England !  Hail  and 
welcome,  lady,  to  this  land ! " 

Near  the  coach  rode  a  group  of  youthful  princes,  a  young 
Duke  of  Wirtemberg,  Prince  Louis  Philip  of  the  Palatinate, 
and  Prince  Christian  of  Anhalt  the  younger.  These  had 
defied  the  trammels  of  ceremonious  custom  which  assigned 
them  places  in  the  cortege  of  princes,  and  had  craved  leave 
to  act  as  the  Lady  Elizabeth's  especial  guard ;  and  Prince 
Friedrich,  who  had  refused  to  occupy  his  appointed  place 
in  a  second  gilded  coach,  had  upheld  the  chivalrous  gentle- 
men in  their  petition  and  had  himself  led  this  noble  escort 
beside  her  Highness's  chariot. 

After  Elizabeth's  carriage  came  several  ponderous, 
heavily  decorated  coaches  wherein  the  most  illustrious  of 
the  English  visitors  were  seated,  and  in  serried  ranks  her 
Highness's  retinue  followed :  English  divines,  secretaries 
and  pages,  physicians  and  surgeons,  trencher-bearers, 
cellarers,  English  cooks,  bakers  and  scullions,  wardrobe 
men  and  maids,  tailors  and  broiderers,  furriers,  shoe- 
makers, and  many  lackeys ;  and  even  her  Highness's  own 
laundresses  had  come  with  her  out  of  England ;  and,  of 
course,  her  tiring-women,  her  hairdressers  and  other 
personal  attendants,  and  a  stud  of  horses  with  their 
drivers,  grooms,  ostlers,  sumptermen.  Each  of  the  Lady 
Elizabeth's  ladies  had  a  dozen  flunkeys  and  serving- 


HER  NEW  HIGHNESS  PALATINE          21 

wenches,  each  noble  guest  had  half  a  hundred  retainers 
and  their  servants'  servants.  Indeed,  the  procession 
looked  mighty  like  the  arrival  of  an  invading  army,  whose 
straggling  line  reached  a  couple  of  miles  along  the  road, 
and  afforded  much  diversion  to  the  Heidelberg  burghers 
for  many  hours. 

Elizabeth's  way  was  strewn  with  roses,  and  the  houses 
were  so  decked  with  green  or  flowering  branches  that  the 
city  seemed  a  very  bower.  Everywhere  slender  sprays  of 
lilac,  and  clustering  garlands  of  white  May-blossom  filled 
the  air  with  delicate  fragrance.  Little  children  and  young 
maidens  held  up  bloom-covered  branches,  youths  and  men 
waved  green  boughs ;  and,  if  there  was  a  sad  face  or  an 
unsightly  cripple  in  Heidelberg,  that  day  sorrow  and 
weakness  seemed  banished,  and  only  spring,  beauty,  gaiety, 
and  happiness  came  forth  to  meet  Elizabeth  Stuart.  And 
she  gave  the  people  of  the  magic  of  her  smile ;  and  when, 
at  the  first  triumphal  archway  she  responded  to  the 
reverent  Burgomaster's  long  oration  in  a  few  words  of 
halting  German,  the  enthusiasm  of  the  populace  broke 
forth  again  in  tremendous  applause. 

"  Where  learned  you  these  German  sayings,  dear  heart?" 
Friedrich  whispered,  bending  from  his  saddle. 

"  Your  kinsman,  Christian  of  Anhalt,  taught  me  them 
while  we  tarried  at  Ladenburg  to-day,"  she  answered  gaily. 

"  Ah,  Christian !  you  dare  to  woo  her  Highness  ? " 
Friedrich  laughed,  as  he  drew  back  behind  the  coach  to 
leave  Elizabeth  in  view  of  the  crowd. 

"  Who  would  not  woo  her  ?  He  must  be  a  churl 
indeed  who  does  not  worship  the  potent  magic  of  her 
glance,"  the  youth  answered,  with  a  flush  on  his  beard- 
less cheek. 

Slowly  the  long  cortege  moved  forward,  until  it  came 
to  the  last  and  most  ornate  of  the  many  triumphal 
arches  which  Heidelberg  had  raised  to  honour  their  new 
Pfalzgrafin.  Here  the  procession  halted.  The  arch  was 
a  fine  pillared  structure,  and  was  decked  with  branches 
torn  from  his  Highness's  orangery,  and  with  other  strange 
foreign  plants  and  tall  white  lilies.  In  the  middle  was  a 


22  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

gallery  where  musicians  discoursed  sweet  music  from 
lutes,  violins,  and  flutes.  From  out  the  encircling  laurel 
garlands  peeped  pictures  of  the  Reformers,  Melanchthon, 
Luther,  and  Calvin ;  and  below  them  were  statues  of  the 
four  Evangelists ;  while  enthroned  on  the  summit  of  the 
arch  was  a  mythological  figure  representing  Juno,  goddess 
of  conjugal  fidelity.  This  heterogeneous  collection  of 
symbols  was  alluded  to  in  a  long  Latin  oration  pro- 
nounced by  the  venerable  Lord  Rector  of  Heidelberg 
University,  and  it  was  only  among  the  group  of  eminent 
scholars  who  accompanied  his  Reverence  that  the  ill- 
chosen  significance  of  the  symbolic  conceits  was  noticed ; 
but  these  gentlemen  marvelled  that  Juno  had  been 
selected  for  comparison,  as  it  was  well  known  that  though 
the  goddess  protected  marriage,  her  own  wedded  bliss  had 
been  but  a  sorry  spectacle.  Then,  too,  it  displeased  the 
learned  doctors  to  see  the  depictments  of  Luther  and 
Calvin  together,  for  that  doctrine  which  the  one  had 
taught  was  abominable  to  the  other,  and  the  simultaneous 
presentment  of  their  lineaments  was  a  portent  of  lax 
broadness  of  thought  which  could  surely  never  be  en- 
couraged by  earnest  men.  Then,  too,  the  presence  of 
frivolous  music  was  but  ill  suited  to  an  archway  repre- 
senting such  grave  matters  as  religion  and  wedded  fidelity. 
While  these  murmurs  ran  through  the  group  of  black- 
gowned  divines,  the  Lord  Rector  poured  forth  a  volume 
of  eulogy,  of  theological  subtleties  and  mythological 
absurdities  which,  perchance,  fell  familiarly  on  the  hear- 
ing of  the  Lady  Elizabeth,  for  she  was  but  too  well  used 
to  her  father's,  James  the  Pedant's,  endless  diatribes,  to  do 
aught  save  weary  a  trifle.  The  excellent  discourse  ended, 
for  all  things  end  when  they  have  exacted  their  full  tax 
of  human  weariness. 

Then  followed  a  pretty  conceit:  a  child  personating 
Cupid  came  forward  and  offered  her  Highness  a  gilt  basket 
laden  with  fruit,  and  decorated  with  so  generous  a  pro- 
fusion of  roses  and  white  lilies  that  Cupid  himself  was 
half  hidden. 

"  Madame  ! "  the  child's  voice  came  shrilly,  "  Madame, 


HER  NEW  HIGHNESS  PALATINE          23 

la  Deesse  Flora  et  la  Deesse  Polmona  vous  saluent  et  vous 
souhaitent  toute  Benediction  et  Felicite1,  elles  vous  envoient 
cette  corbeille." 

"  Ah !  Lift  the  little  one  up,  my  lords,  that  I  may 
thank  him  right  worthily ! "  cried  the  Lady  Elizabeth. 
And  one  of  the  attendant  gentlemen  lifted  the  child  to 
the  level  of  the  coach's  window. 

"  Mesdames  les  Deesses  ont  un  bien  joli  messager !  "  she 
said  ;  and,  bending  through  the  window,  she  laid  her  fresh 
lips  on  the  child's  brow.  A  woman  in  the  crowd  broke 
forth  into  a  sob  of  delight,  and  again  a  mighty  cry  went 
up  of:  "  Hail!  our  Elizabeth!  Hail!  sweet,  gracious  lady!  " 

Now  was  to  be  enacted  the  climax  of  the  day's  cere- 
monies. It  had  been  arranged  that  as  her  Highness 
passed  through  the  last  archway  a  crown  of  refined  gold 
and  precious  gems  should  be  lowered  on  to  her  coach ; 
it  had  been  contrived  that  this  diadem  should  be  firmly 
fastened  with  rivets  prepared  on  the  carriage,  and  that 
thus  gloriously  crowned  her  Highness  should  enter  the 
Castle  of  Heidelberg.  Two  young  boys  habited  inflowing 
white  draperies  and  with  golden  wings  on  their  shoulders 
were  to  lower  this  crown  from  the  archway  with  silken 
cords,  and  two  tall  youths  arrayed  in  full  mediaeval  armour 
representing  the  Paladins  of  old,  were  ordered  to  reach  up 
and  fasten  the  sacred  symbol  firmly  on  to  the  vehicle's 
roof  with  the  rivets.  Now  it  must  be  recollected  that 
during  the  Lord  Rector's  copious  oration  and  the  manifold 
ceremonies  of  the  long  morning,  her  Highness's  coach- 
horses  had  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  cheering  crowd,  and 
already  during  the  last  halt  they  had  trembled  and 
started,  and  it  had  required  all  their  grooms'  blandish- 
ments to  keep  them  quiet ;  now  they  proved  restive,  and 
despite  their  leaders'  efforts  they  started  violently  forward, 
dragging  the  heavy  coach  joltingly  along.  The  crown, 
which  had  just  been  lowered,  was  flung  off  the  coach-roof 
and  hurled  into  the  flower-strewn  road.  Like  some  piteous 
dead  thing  it  lay  in  a  grave  of  flowers. 

A  groan  of  horror  went  up  from  the  watching  crowd. 
"The  crown  has  fallen!"  "It  is  an  ill  omen!"  "It 


24  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

means  an  evil  fate  ! "  "  111  omen  !  ill  omen  !  "  ran  from 
lip  to  lip.  Yet,  ere  the  whisper  ceased,  another  fearsome 
thing  befell,  for  Prince  Friedrich's  horse,  grown  restive 
too,  reared  and  strained  at  the  bit.  In  vain  his  Highness 
endeavoured  to  pacify  the  frightened  animal,  which 
plunged  wildly  forward  between  the  men  who  had  rushed 
to  save  the  crown.  The  charger's  forelegs  became  en- 
tangled in  the  long  silken  cords  which  hung  limp  and 
useless  from  the  archway,  and  in  an  instant  horse  and 
rider  were  struggling  on  the  ground,  with  the  crown 
crushed  beneath  them. 

A  brief  scene  of  the  utmost  confusion  ensued ;  the 
other  princes'  steeds,  affrighted  too,  reared  and  kicked 
violently,  while  the  panic-stricken  mob  surged  forward. 
An  arquebusier  by  mistake  discharged  his  weapon,  and 
some  one  in  the  crowd  raised  a  cry  of  "  Murder ! " 

"  Silence  !  silence  ! "  cried  Prince  Friedrich  loudly,  as, 
aided  by  his  attendants,  he  freed  himself  from  the 
struggling  horse. 

"  Silence  !  See,  it  is  nothing  !  I  am  unhurt,  and  even 
poor  Warflame  is  none  the  worse,"  he  said,  as  he  stroked 
the  charger,  who  now  stood  quietly,  though  with  wild 
eyes  and  trembling  flanks. 

"  And  now,  my  lords  ! "  he  cried,  turning  to  the  other 
cavaliers,  "  now  let  us  ride  on  apace,  for  her  Highness  will 
be  disturbed  by  our  absence."  He  remounted  and  rode 
rapidly  onwards,  followed  by  the  princes. 

The  Lady  Elizabeth,  in  her  gilded  coach,  had  seen 
nothing  of  all  this.  She  was  smiling  serenely,  and,  when 
Prince  Friedrich  appeared  at  her  carriage-door,  she  rallied 
him  gaily  on  his  dallying.  And  so  the  cortege  passed  on 
its  way  right  merrily;  but  there  was  a  shadow  on  the 
souls  of  many  who  had  beheld  the  ungainly  incident, 
and  men  whispered  that  Destiny  had  sent  a  warning  of 
disaster  to  Heidelberg  that  day. 

Slowly  the  coach  ascended  the  steep,  narrow  road  from 
the  town  to  the  castle,  but  at  length  the  first  drawbridge 
was  reached,  and  in  thunderous  voices  the  cannon  pro- 
claimed that  the  new  Princess  Palatine  had  entered  the 


HER  NEW  HIGHNESS  PALATINE          25 

precincts  of  her  sumptuous  stronghold.  The  splendid 
train  wound  its  way  to  the  inner  keep.  At  the  second 
drawbridge  Elizabeth  was  greeted  with  a  flare  of  trumpets, 
and  as  her  coach  rumbled  under  the  ancient  stone  arch- 
way, salvo  upon  salvo  of  cannon  rent  the  air,  and  the 
sound  flew  on  the  wings  of  Echo  and  rolled  in  a  hundred 
phantom  salutes  through  the  valley  between  the  long, 
low  hills. 

Now  came  the  moment  whereon  the  Countess  Juliane 
had  waited  in  such  yearning  of  spirit.  Ceremony's  iron 
hand  had  lain  heavy  upon  the  mother's  heart,  and  this 
same  dull  tyrant  had  ordained  that  she  should  greet  her 
son's  wife  only  after  the  bride  had  crossed  the  castle's 
threshold.  Juliane  had  longed  to  welcome  the  Lady 
Elizabeth  at  the  door  of  the  Saalbau,  but  Ceremony  had 
leagued  with  another  tyrant,  Custom,  and  had  decreed 
that  the  meeting-place  should  be  in  the  Hall  of  Mirrors. 
And  so  the  Countess-Dowager,  at  the  head  of  a  bevy  of 
princesses,  stood  waiting  in  the  centre  of  the  hall.  Below, 
at  the  door  of  the  Saalbau,  Elizabeth  was  received  by  the 
first  nobles  of  the  land,  and  was  escorted  in  state  up  the 
winding  stairway. 

The  Lord-Marshal  entered  the  hall  first.  He  smote 
the  marbled  floor  three  times  with  his  staff  of  office,  and 
proclaimed  in  ringing  tones  the  arrival  of :  "  The  Lady 
Elizabeth,  Princess  of  England,  Scotland,  Ireland,  and 
France,  Countess  Palatine,  our  gracious  Lord  Friedrich's 
most  noble  spouse." 

For  an  instant  Elizabeth  Stuart  stood  on  the  threshold, 
while  the  assembled  princesses  and  ladies  of  high  degree 
bent  low  in  ceremonious  greeting.  Her  Highness  re- 
sponded with  a  profound  obeisance,  but  her  eyes  sought 
the  tall,  dark-robed  figure  which  stood  immovable  in  the 
midst  of  the  bowing  group.  Elizabeth  stepped  forward  and 
again  bent  low,  this  time  only  to  the  Countess  Juliane, 
and  there  shone  on  her  face  the  magic  of  that  slow  smile 
for  which  thousands  of  gallant  men  have  died,  which 
poets  of  all  centuries  have  sung,  and  which  haunts  the 
world's  memory  long  after  the  doomed  race  of  Stuart  has 


26  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

perished.  And  the  Countess  Juliane,  touched  by  the 
sweet  witchery  of  Elizabeth  Stuart's  smile,  defying  Cere- 
mony and  banishing  Custom,  came  forward  with  hands 
outstretched. 

"  Welcome !  welcome,  madame  ! "  she  said  aloud.  And 
drawing  Elizabeth  to  her  heart,  she  murmured  brokenly : 
"  Ah !  my  child,  be  good  to  him,  for  all  his  soul  is  yours 
to  make  or  mar." 

"  I  love  him  well,  madame  ma  mere,"  Elizabeth 
whispered  back ;  "  and,  if  God  wills  it,  I  shall  be  for  ever 
his  faithful  wife  and  right  good  friend." 

"  God  help  you  to  it,  madame  ma  fille,"  Juliane 
answered  solemnly. 


CHAPTER   II 

HEIDELBERG 

"  Le  repos  est  un  meuble  qui  ne  se  trouve  pas  es  grandes  cours  oh 
la  foule  et  1'embarras  habitent ! " — SPANHEIM. 

THE  first  few  days  of  Elizabeth  Stuart's  sojourn  in 
Heidelberg  were  restless  with  continuous  pageants 
and  merrymakings,  and  she  could  have  found  it  in 
her  heart  to  wish  for  some  quiet  hours  when  she  could 
forget  that  she  was  the  first  player  in  a  great  drama,  a 
little  span  of  time  wherein  she  could  be  but  a  young  and 
happily  wedded  wife  and  not  a  princess  of  political  im- 
portance. Indeed,  the  eyes  of  all  Europe  scrutinised  the 
new  Princess  Palatine,  for  she  was  the  living  link  between 
Protestant  England  and  Reformed  Germany.  The  Cal- 
vinists  regarded  her  as  one  on  a  side  path  towards  salva- 
tion, and  if  she  were  not  walking  in  the  narrow  and  only 
way,  at  least  she  was  approaching  thereunto  ;  for  the 
Church  of  England,  though  unfortunately  Lutheran  in 
doctrine,  was  yet  an  ally  of  the  English  Puritans  or 
Calvinists,  those  bulwarks  of  the  ship  of  God.  The 
Lutherans  looked  to  her  as  to  one  of  their  own  faith  who 
would  protect  them  from  their  hated  brethren  in  Christ, 
the  Calvinists.  The  Catholic  world  viewed  her  as  a  new 
power  of  evil,  as  a  worldly  strength  gained  by  the  heretics, 
and  yet  they  watched  narrowly,  for,  Anne  of  Denmark 
having  returned  to  the  only  fold  of  the  Catholic  Shepherd, 
it  might  fall  out  that  so  young  a  princess  had  inherited 
a  little  of  her  mother's  bias  towards  Rome.  In  Austria's 
vision  the  balance  of  European  power  was  dangerously 
listed  to  the  Protestant  side  by  this  union.  France 
viewed  the  matter  calmly,  as,  at  present,  her  interests 
were  not  deeply  involved.  Spain  cast  glances  of  sombre 


28  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

hatred  towards  Heidelberg,  for  it  had  been  the  dream  of 
her  most  astute  politicians  to  unite  the  widower  Philip  III. 
and  Elizabeth  Stuart,  and  thus  establish  the  right  of 
Spain  to  the  Kingdom  of  England.  In  this  scheme  lay 
increase  of  power  for  Spain  and  the  stamping  out  of 
heresy  in  the  British  Isles.  Anne  of  Denmark  had  striven 
to  promote  the  match,  partly  because  she  was  secretly  a 
Catholic,  but  chiefly  because  she  yearned  with  all  the 
beautiful  instincts  of  the  ambitious  mother's  heart  to 
see  her  daughter  a  Queen.  Anne  had  been  willing  to 
give  her  child  to  the  hereditary  enemy  of  Denmark, 
Gustavus  Adolphus,  King  of  Sweden — anything  better 
than  that  this  daughter  of  kings  should  wed  a  paltry 
German  prince ! 

"  My  daughter  to  be  Goody  Palsgrave ! "  she  had  cried. 
"  Perish  the  thought,  dear  heart ! "  This  to  the  British 
Solomon,  most  ungainly,  sure,  of  all  the  "  dear  hearts  " 
which  the  whimsies  of  wifely  nomenclature  have  endowed 
with  this  name  ! 

But  "  dear  heart  James "  had  proved  obstinate ;  and 
though  he  coquetted  with  Spain,  and  wrote  letters  to 
France  for  the  affiancing  of  his  Elizabeth  with  the  young 
Louis  XIII.,  though  he  even  waxed  eloquent  on  his 
fatherly  love  prompting  him  to  keep  his  daughter  unwed 
to  be  a  future  virgin  queen — an  Elizabeth  II.  of  England 
— he  had  really  always  meant  to  give  her  to  the  Prince 
Palatine.  And  so  he  sent  her  off  at  last,  as  the  fair  link 
of  Protestantism,  God's  chosen  vessel,  and  armed  with 
strict  injunctions  to  give  precedence  to  none  save  queens 
and  empresses,  an  she  chanced  to  meet  such  in  life's  path. 
So  the  sweet  youth  of  Elizabeth  Stuart  was  heavily 
weighted  by  political  considerations ;  yet  if  she  wearied 
sometimes  of  her  overwhelming  role  she  gave  no  sign 
thereof,  and  seemed  a  right  merry,  gracious  lady,  enjoying 
to  the  full  the  cup  of  love  and  happiness  which  life  held 
to  her  lips. 

The  wedding  festivities  ended  with  a  grand  tourney, 
recalling  the  chivalrous  days  of  old ;  but  the  spirit  of  the 
age  was  far  different  from  that  which  drew  the  valiant 


HEIDELBERG  29 

to  the  lists  in  bygone  centuries.  No  longer  did  each 
knight  seek  honourable  advancement  by  mighty  deeds  of 
prowess ;  no  longer  was  the  guerdon  the  favour  of  some  fair 
lady,  or  the  achievement  of  renown  and  chivalrous  fame. 
In  the  seventeenth  century  the  prizes  were  large  sums  of 
money;  and  though  the  tourney  was  a  sport  involving 
a  certain  degree  of  personal  risk,  and  demanding  good 
horsemanship,  courage,  and  skill,  yet  was  it  withal  but  a 
charming  conceit,  a  graceful  mumming  to  adopt  the  rules 
of  chivalry  and  play  at  the  manners  of  knightly  days. 
Yet  chivalry  is  an  instinct  of  the  human  heart,  and 
especially  of  young,  ardent,  and  enamoured  hearts,  and 
the  princes  and  nobles  at  Heidelberg  played  their  parts 
with  zest.  Already  Elizabeth  Stuart  had  conquered  a 
small  army  of  impassioned  votaries ;  it  was  ever  her 
destiny  to  inspire  devotion,  and  not  a  few  of  those  who 
had  seen  her  enter  her  town  of  Heidelberg  had  secretly 
vowed  her  a  romantic  fealty.  And  here  at  the  tourney 
they  might  offer  her  their  homage  without  fear  of  seeming 
importunate.  By  the  rules  of  chivalry  they  were  bound 
to  lay  the  reward  of  their  success  at  the  feet  of  some 
fair  lady,  bound  to  offer  to  a  woman  this  token  of  their 
worship  of  womanhood. 

Mistress  Anne  Dudley,  her  Highness's  lady-in-waiting 
and  close  friend,  had  been  besieged  by  gallants,  who  begged 
to  be  told  what  would  be  her  Highness's  colours  for  that 
day ;  and  finding  Mistress  Anne  but  too  discreet,  the 
gentlemen  had  not  scrupled  to  invoke  the  aid  of  the 
Princess's  tiring- women.  But  these  damsels,  standing  in 
awe  of  Mistress  Anne's  displeasure,  had  also  proved  obdur- 
ate ;  and  none  knowing  what  were  her  Highness's  colours, 
many  knights  had  ridden  forth  without  silken  scarves 
across  their  breasts,  or  rosettes  to  deck  their  helmets. 

A  vast  concourse  of  gaily  clad  townsfolk  stood  against 
the  barriers  round  the  lists,  and  there  was  not  wanting 
in  eager  sightseers  from  the  countryside,  whose  peasant 
dress  added  to  the  varied  collection  of  quaint  costume. 
By  her  new  Highness  Palatine's  own  desire,  all  who  came 
were  to  be  permitted  to  see  what  they  could  of  the  jousting. 


30  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Must  you  charm  even  the  villeins  by  your  sweet 
thought  for  them,  beloved  ? "  Prince  Friedrich  had  asked 
when  the  Lady  Elizabeth  had  proffered  this  request. 

"  Her  Highness  is  but  too  full  of  gracious  con- 
descension," had  grumbled  Count  Schomberg,  her  lord- 
marshal.  "  It  will  be  a  hard  task  to  arrange  for  all  the 
rabble  to  be  allowed  to  peep  at  the  lists." 

Yet  Count  Schomberg  had  been  easily  silenced  by  a 
glance  from  fair  Mistress  Anne  Dudley,  who  had  stolen 
his  heart  when  he  went  into  England  with  his  Highness. 
Thus  it  fell  out  that  a  great  crowd  stood  and  watched  the 
jousting,  and  the  Lady  Elizabeth  was  lauded  as  the  most 
gracious  lady  in  all  the  world. 

In  the  centre  of  the  long  wooden  gallery  which  had 
been  built  round  the  lists,  her  Highness  and  her  ladies 
were  seated  beneath  a  wide,  crimson,  silken  canopy.  The 
Lady  Harrington  was  there,  the  new  Princess  Palatine's 
former  governess  and  faithful  friend  ;  my  Lord  Harrington 
too,  a  grave  and  learned  nobleman,  who  had  been  one  of 
the  brightest  ornaments  of  the  Elizabethan  Court,  and 
had  dedicated  his  life  to  the  service  of  Queen  Elizabeth's 
godchild,  Elizabeth  Stuart.  For  James  had  chosen  his 
mother's  murderess  to  be  godmother  to  his  eldest  daughter. 
True,  Queen  Elizabeth  had  been  his  own  godmother,  but 
that  had  been  in  the  vanished  days  of  Scotch  and  English 
pseudo-friendship;  and  when  James  prayed  her  to  be 
"  gossip  and  name-mither  to  the  bairn,"  Marie  Stuart's 
blood  cried  unavenged  to  Heaven.  James  had  the  accom- 
modating memory  of  the  wise  statesman  ;  but  alack  !  an 
God  had  not  granted  to  the  human  heart  the  trick  of 
forgetting,  who  could  e'er  be  gay  ? 

And  right  merry  was  the  company  beneath  the  crimson 
dais  at  the  Heidelberg  tournament  that  June  morning. 
Mistress  Anne  Dudley  was  there,  her  soft  brown  eyes 
a-smile,  and  her  fair,  fragile  face  a-blush  at  the  whispers  of 
stalwart  Count  Schomberg.  The  young  Countess  Amalia 
Solms  stood  near,  a  trifle  awkward  and  Teutonic  perhaps, 
yet  like  some  well-bred  mare  of  a  heavy  race,  florid  and 
comfortable.  Then  there  were  Princess  Charlotte  of  the 


HEIDELBERG  31 

Palatine,  Prince  Friedrich's  sister;  and  the  Princess 
Catherine.  The  Countess  Juliane  had  pleaded  fatigue, 
she  who  usually  never  owned  herself  weary ;  but  already 
King  James's  injunctions  to  his  daughter  anent  precedence 
had  achieved  a  certain  coolness  between  the  Electress- 
Dowager  and  her  new  Highness  Palatine.  Besides,  Juliane 
feared  and  disliked  tourneys,  as  all  the  world  knew. 

So  only  youth  and  joy  were  present  on  that  summer 
morning,  save  my  Lord  of  Harrington  and  his  lady  ;  but 
the  happiness  which  shone  from  Elizabeth's  eyes  seemed 
to  have  banished  the  shadow  of  years  from  her  devoted 
friends'  souls,  and  both  my  lord  and  my  lady  jested  and 
revelled  with  the  zest  of  youth. 

His  Highness  Prince  Friedrich  entered  the  lists,  eager 
to  exhibit  his  skill  and  courage  to  his  beloved.  He  wore 
splendid  armour,  wrought  in  finest  steel  and  inlaid  with 
gold  by  one  of  those  patient  craftsmen  of  Niirnberg  who 
followed  faithfully  the  traditions  of  the  goodly  armourer, 
Master  Peter  Vischer.  Upon  Friedrich's  breast  a  scarf 
of  azure  silk  and  on  his  helmet  a  little  ribbon  of  sky-blue 
betrayed  to  the  envious  gallants  that  this  was  Elizabeth's 
colour.  Twenty  times  was  his  Highness  victorious,  for 
twenty  brave  knights  were  unhorsed  by  his  mighty  lance ; 
but  Prince  Christian  the  younger  of  Anhalt  robbed  his 
Highness  of  the  first  prize,  for  twenty-three  times  the 
heralds  proclaimed  him  victor,  and  twenty-three  purses  of 
gold  did  the  Lady  Elizabeth  bestow  on  her  young  kinsman. 
The  stripling's  prowess  had  won  the  favour  of  the  crowd, 
and  when  for  the  twenty-third  time  he  kneeled  before 
her  Highness  to  receive  the  prize,  a  loud,  enthusiastic 
shout  went  up.  And  sure  he  made  a  gallant  figure  as  he 
kneeled  bareheaded,  slight  and  almost  girlish,  with  his 
light  straw-coloured  hair  ruffled  from  his  helmet's  rude 
touch,  his  face  flushed,  and  his  blue  eyes  ablaze.  Hitter 
Christel  they  had  dubbed  him  to  distinguish  him  from 
his  father,  the  aged  Prince  Christian  of  Anhalt.  And 
"  Long  live  Ritter  Christel ! "  they  cried  right  lustily. 

"  Methinks  you  are  a  very  valorous  knight,  my  lord  !  " 
her  Highness  laughed,  as  she  handed  him  the  prize  for 


32  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

the  twenty-third  time.  "  A  valiant  knight,  and  a  most 
wealthy  gentleman ! " 

"  Ah  !  mock  me  not,  madame,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice, 
"  I  would  fain  win  renown  in  more  earnest  battles,  and  all 
I  won  I  would  lay  at  your  feet,  sweet  cousin.  But  now 
I  have  a  prayer  to  make.  Wilt  grant  it,  cousin  ? " 

"  Ritter  Christel,  Ritter  Christel,"  she  answered,  laugh- 
ing, "  dost  crave  another  purse  of  gold  ? " 

"  Nay,  madame,  but  the  honour  of  bearing  your  colours 
for  ever  on  my  breast  and  on  my  helmet ;  no  gold  can 
buy  such  proud  happiness,"  he  said. 

"  My  lord ! "  she  cried,  as  Prince  Friedrich  mounted 
the  steps  from  the  lists,  "  my  lord,  a  gallant  knight  craves 
the  honour  of  bearing  my  colours  for  ever  and  a  day,  as 
they  say  in  the  fairy  stories  !  Have  I  your  permission 
to  grant  him  this  ? " 

"  God  knows,  madame,  we  all  wear  your  colours  hidden 
in  our  hearts ;  so  why  should  not  my  cousin  here  chal- 
lenge the  world  with  them  on  his  helmet  ?  "  he  answered, 
laying  his  hand  affectionately  on  the  kneeling  youth's 
shoulder. 

"  Why,  then,  Ritter  Christel,"  she  cried,  laughing,  "  I 
bestow  my  favour  on  you  ! "  Tearing  a  sky-blue  ribbon 
from  her  corsage,  she  held  it  out  to  Prince  Christian. 
He  caught  her  hand  and  laid  a  kiss  upon  it ;  then 
springing  up,  he  bound  the  ribbon  on  his  arm,  saying : 
"  Till  death  !  " 

So  the  long  summer  day  passed  in  joustings  and  merry- 
makings, tilting  at  the  ring,  and  feats  of  arms.  In  the 
evening  after  the  banquet  a  fine  pageant  took  place  in 
the  moonlit  gardens,  and,  for  fear  false  Cynthia  should 
bestow  but  few  white  rays  that  night,  torches  and  lamps 
had  been  set  among  the  flowers  to  light  the  revels.  It 
was  a  masque,  written  by  my  Lord  Achatius  d'Hona; 
and  though  it  matched  not  the  gay  beauty  of  good  Master 
Ben  Jonson's  masques,  such  as  her  Highness  had  known 
at  Whitehall,  still  it  was  a  right  merry  piece,  and  rich 
in  eulogies  of  England's  Pearl.  There  was  Hercules  in 
a  lion  skin,  shouldering  his  giant  club,  and  offering 


HEIDELBERG  33 

Elizabeth  the  homage  of  the  strength  of  the  world ;  Mars, 
god  of  war,  kneeled  defeated  before  her ;  Orpheus  laid  a 
golden  lute  at  her  feet ;  a  bearded  figure  of  Neptune, 
followed  by  dainty  mermaids  and  grim  men  of  the  sea, 
swore  fealty  and  service  to  her ;  the  nine  Muses  pro- 
claimed her  to  be  their  long-sought  sister,  the  tenth 
Muse,  and  greater  than  themselves ;  while  Jason,  in  the 
person  of  Prince  Friedrich  himself,  spoke  some  noble 
verses,  telling  how  he,  the  new  Jason,  would  tame  not 
only  fire-breathing  bulls,  as  did  his  Greek  prototype,  but 
that  he  would  conquer  all  the  world  for  the  guerdon  of 
her  smile.  Prince  Christian  the  younger  of  Anhalt,  with 
sandaled  feet  and  winged  heels,  appeared  as  Mercury, 
having  left  the  service  of  the  gods  to  be  in  future  the 
messenger  of  the  fairest  of  all  goddesses,  Elizabeth  Stuart, 
he  avowed. 

At  length  the  mumming  ceased,  and  the  ladies  resumed 
their  black-velvet  masks,  fearful  of  the  freshening  evening 
breeze  which  had  sprung  up  and,  like  some  over-bold 
lover,  sought  to  ravish  the  roses  of  the  ladies'  cheeks. 

In  vain  Scultetus,  his  Highness's  preacher,  let  it  be 
known  that  even  this  frivolous  evening  must  close  with 
prayer  in  the  castle  chapel.  Youth  and  the  fragrant 
June  night  conspired  together  to  banish  gravity  and 
elude  sleep,  and  Scultetus  preached  but  to  drowsy  dow- 
agers and  weary  greybeards.  Youth  was  abroad  in  the 
castle  gardens,  and  wotted  not,  for  one  night,  of  Calvinistic 
preachings. 

Even  honest  Count  Schomberg  had  wandered  away, 
and  it  was  no  wonder  that  Mistress  Anne  Dudley  was 
amissing.  There  were  ladies  with  tall  lace  rebatoes  round 
their  graceful  necks,  and  huge  fardingales  round  their 
waists,  with  underskirts  so  heavily  broidered  that  they 
fell  like  metal  bells  to  the  ankles,  and  displayed  the 
long,  square-toed,  high-heeled  shoes  and  the  ribbon  "roses" 
sparkling  with  gems.  These  ladies  wore  little  velvet 
caps,  bejewelled  and  beplumed,  on  their  high-piled  hair ; 
or,  an  my  lady  was  in  the  very  newest  mode,  she  had 
simplified  her  hairdress,  to  allow  of  her  wearing  the 

c 


34 

high-crowned  hat,  with  sweeping  plume  and  jewelled 
buckle,  which  was  copied  from  my  lord's  headgear. 
Beside  these  ladies  there  sauntered  gallants  in  velvet 
cloaks,  slashed  doublets,  and  trunks  a-puffed  to  so  enor- 
mous a  size  that  below  them,  from  knee  to  ankle,  the 
leg  in  its  silken  hose  looked  ridiculously  elegant.  They 
had  stiff,  upstanding  pickadells  around  their  necks,  and 
lovelocks  which  just  reached  to  these  wheel-like  lace 
and  linen  collars. 

Thus  attired,  my  lords  and  ladies  wandered  through 
the  moonlit  gardens — gardens  as  straightly  gowned  as 
themselves,  with  formal  flower-beds,  clipped  bushes,  and 
fountains  where  even  the  water  seemed  to  have  caught 
the  mode  of  stiff  precision  which  was  the  elegance  of  the 
age.  And  yet  the  poetry  of  the  summer  night  sighed 
through  the  trim  garden,  the  thrilling  silence  and  mystery 
of  night.  The  sweetness  of  the  roses  from  her  Highness's 
rosery,  which  Friedrich,  prince  of  lovers,  had  caused  to  be 
planted  for  her  even  ere  she  came  out  of  England,  was 
wafted  deliciously  on  the  still  air  by  some  soft  breeze, 
some  zephyr  imperceptible  save  to  the  vagrant  fragrances 
ever  seeking  a  carrier  with  whom  to  wander  out  into  the 
world. 

On  to  the  wide  terrace  before  the  Friedrich's  Bau 
came  a  tall  figure,  slim  with  youth's  grace  in  spite  of 
fardingale  and  heavy  skirt,  a  woman  masked  in  black 
velvet,  and  wearing  from  her  shoulders  a  full  black- 
velvet  cloak.  She  came  slowly  onwards  to  the  low  para- 
pet, and  leaning  there,  looked  down  into  the  silent  valley, 
where  the  moon  had  magicked  the  river  Neckar  to  a 
silver  pathway,  a  placid  stream  of  light  flowing  through 
the  dark  lowland.  The  moon  also  sent  her  rays  like 
mysterious  messengers  over  the  long,  low  hills  beyond 
the  valley,  while  on  the  terrace  she  wrought  strange 
arabesques  out  of  the  shadows  from  the  castle.  The 
woman  waited  on  some  one  surely,  for  she  turned  her 
head  ever  and  anon  as  though  listening  for  some  well- 
loved  foot-tread  to  break  the  enchanted  silence. 

Master  Scultetus,  his  preaching  finished,  betook  him- 


HEIDELBERG  35 

self  from  the  chapel  towards  his  lodgings  in  the  Biblio- 
thek  Bau,  and  the  soft  night  air  seemingly  whispered 
some  sweet  message  even  to  his  harsh  heart ;  perhaps 
some  memory  of  youth  disturbed  the  dry  cobwebs  of 
theology  which  networked  his  mind ;  and  he,  too,  paused 
near  the  vaulted  passage  leading  from  the  courtyard  to 
the  terrace.  As  if  in  a  frame  the  picture  lay  before 
him  :  the  little  turret  at  the  end  of  the  parapet  clear  in 
the  wan  moonlight ;  beyond,  the  long  line  of  the  hills, 
dark  and  eerie  against  the  deep  night  blue  of  the 
sky ;  and  like  a  visible  presence,  the  rich  fragrance  of 
the  roses  from  her  Highness's  rosery  came  to  greet  the 
stern  theologian.  For  a  moment  the  witchery  of  the 
night  held  him  in  thrall — how  beautiful  it  was;  how 
beautiful !  The  swish  of  silken  skirts  upon  the  stone 
paving  of  the  terrace  broke  in  on  his  reverence's  pon- 
dering ;  the  sound  of  a  hurried  footfall  summoned  curi- 
osity and  that  instinct  for  interference  in  the  actions  of 
others,  which  is  so  noble  a  companion  to  Faith  in  the 
souls  of  the  godly,  came  and  banished  all  useless  admira- 
tion of  Nature's  beauty  from  Scultetus'  thoughts. 

"  How  now  !  lovers  philandering  ?  I  must  look  to  this," 
he  muttered,  and,  proceeding  a  few  steps  onward,  he 
ensconced  himself  in  the  deep  shadow  of  the  archway 
leading  on  to  the  terrace.  He  peered  across  the  moon- 
light with  his  shortsighted  eyes.  Yes,  a  man  in  a 
sombre  mantle  stood  beside  a  woman's  figure  leaning  on 
the  parapet  near  the  little  turret.  Scultetus,  if  he  had 
nearsighted  eyes  had  sharp  hearing,  and  also  his  soul's 
vision  was  wide  with  unclean  suspicions  and  distrust  of 
human  nature.  He  rejoiced  in  the  Lord  at  having  sur- 
prised a  wanton  couple;  he  was  verily  uplifted  at  the 
divine  leading  which  had  brought  him  forth  to  punish 
such  carnal  triflers.  Meanwhile,  being  a  man  of  prudent 
habits,  he  decided  to  listen  to  the  lovers'  talk,  and  to  con- 
found them  afterwards  with  a  repetition  of  their  lewd  say- 
ings. For  a  few  moments  the  lovers  were  silent,  leaning 
there  side  by  side  against  the  parapet ;  then  his  reverence's 
patience  was  rewarded,  and  he  heard  the  man  speak. 


36  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Ah  !  heart  of  mine,"  he  said,  "  what  rapture  to  be  near 
thee !  Methinks  it  is  flame  that  thy  sweet  lips  breathe 
into  my  every  vein  in  each  kiss." 

"  Beloved,  beloved,"  she  murmured  low. 

"  My  queen,  my  soul,  love  of  my  life  !  can  such  delicious 
hours  be  given  to  mortal  man  ?  Thou  inakest  me  hi 
truth  a  god,  a  god  by  thy  passion,  sweeting  !  Thou  makest 
me  proud  for  all  eternity  by  thy  kiss ! " 

"  Ah !  dear  my  lord,  I  would  that  Cupid  could  teach 
me  a  hundred  ways  of  love  to  make  thee  blest ! "  she 
said,  and  even  the  listening  Calvinist  thrilled  at  the 
tenderness  in  the  woman's  voice,  that  voice  which  he 
seemed  to  know  so  well. 

"  Yet  love  is  short,  they  say ;  but  sure  for  us  it  cannot 
be,  for  in  all  the  ages  none  have  loved  as  we  !  Ah  !  no, 
with  us  it  is  no  trance  of  passion.  We  shall  always  love, 
and  glory  in  the  delights  of  love ! "  He  drew  her  close, 
and,  lifting  the  little  flouncing  of  black  velvet  which  hung 
from  her  mask,  he  kissed  her  lips  while  she  lay  weak  and 
trembling  in  his  arms. 

"  Now,"  thought  Scultetus,  "  now  I  can  confront  these 
wantons.  Unhand  yourselves,  ye  votaries  of  lust ! " 
he  thundered,  coming  forth  from  the  shadow.  "  What  ? 
Beneath  her  new  Highness  Palatine's  own  windows 
you  would  profane  the  world  with  such  vile  sayings ! " 
The  lovers  sprang  apart,  startled  at  the  preacher's 
denunciation. 

"  Sir,  you  forget  your  place,"  the  man  cried  haughtily. 

"  My  Lord  Friedrich ! "  stammered  the  discomfited 
divine. 

"Yes,  Master  Scultetus,"  said  the  woman,  laughing. 
"  Our  dear  Lord  Friedrich  and — "  she  plucked  her  mask 
from  her  face,  "and  his  faithful  spouse,  Elizabeth  of 
England." 

"  I  crave  your  Highness's  pardon  —  madame,  I 
knew  not  —  I  did  not  recognise  —  my  lord,  I  am 
abashed " 

"  You  must  have  known  my  voice,  sir,  an  you  lis- 
tened, which  no  doubt  you  did,"  cried  Friedrich  scorn- 


HEIDELBERG  37 

fully.  "  I  beg  you  begone,  sir ;  I  like  not  listeners  in  my 
house ! " 

"  Ah,  good  my  lord,"  said  her  Highness,  coming  for- 
ward. "  His  reverence  but  errs  through  too  much  zeal ! 
In  the  code  of  stern  moralists  perchance,  there  is  no 
room  for  wedded  love ;  or  rather  is  it  not  the  custom  for 
a  wedded  couple  to  play  at  lovers  thus  ? " 

"  Madame,  at  Whitehall  such  may  be  the  case,  but — " 
began  Scultetus  with  asperity. 

"  Sir,  this  is  too  much  ! "  his  Highness  cried.  "  You 
venture,  then,  to  disparage " 

"  Sweet  heart,"  Elizabeth  broke  in,  "  his  reverence  sure 
does  not  know  your  voice  when  you  are  speaking  such 
soft  words,  he  only  knows  the  tone  of  argument.  Now, 
enough ;  good  night,  Master  Scultetus,"  and  she  bowed 
her  head,  dismissing  the  crestfallen  guardian  of  morals, 
who,  making  profound  if  awkward  obeisance,  hurriedly 
withdrew. 

"  Nay !  I  am  wroth,  dear  love  ! "  Prince  Friedrich  said  ; 
"  that  fool  preacher  has  broken  the  spell  of  beauty  which 
was  over  us  !  It  was  sacrilege,  for  such  rapture  is  a  sacra- 
ment of  love " 

"  Be  not  wroth ;  let  us  not  waste  this  delicious  hour 
with  angry  thoughts.  Come,  dear  my  lord,  forget  the 
fierce  preacher,  and  let  us  tarry  a  brief  while  longer 
here."  She  drew  him  to  her,  and  beneath  her  kiss  he 
forgot  preacher  and  anger  and  the  world  itself. 

Suddenly  from  below  in  the  gardens  there  came  the 
echo  of  a  song.  The  lovers  turned  to  listen. 

"  It  is  Christian  singing,"  whispered  Prince  Friedrich, 
"  Christian,  whom  you  call  Hitter  Christel,  toi  charmeuse 
de  tous  cceurs  ! " 

"  Harken !  my  lord,  it  is  an  English  lay  he  sings,"  she 
whispered  back. 

"  Oh !  eyes  that  pierce  into  the  purest  heart ! 

Oh  !  hands  that  hold  the  highest  thoughts  in  thrall ! 
Oh !  wit  that  weighs  the  depth  of  all  desart ! 

Oh !  sense  that  shows  the  secret  sweet  of  all ! 
The  heaven  of  heavens  with  heavenly  power  preserve  thee, 
Love  but  thyself,  and  give  me  leave  to  serve  thee." 


38  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

The  young  voice  rose  in  a  passionate  strain,  and  with 
a  depth  of  truth  and  yearning  which  sent  an  added 
thrill  to  the  lovers  on  the  terrace. 

"  Poor  Christel !  he  sings  his  passion  for  thee — sings  it 
to  the  stars  as  he  may  not  sing  it  to  thee,"  Prince  Fried- 
rich  whispered. 

"  To  the  stars,  yes,"  she  answered ;  but  she  smiled  to 
herself,  for  she  knew  that  Christel  sang  below  in  the 
rose  garden,  and  that  she  alone  must  have  heard  him 
singing  had  she  been  where  he  supposed  her,  in  her 
chamber  above,  whose  windows  looked  out  over  the 
terrace  and  the  rosery. 


CHAPTER  III 

QUIET   DAYS 

"  Ich  kniee  vor  Euch  als  getreuer  Vasall, 
Pfalzgrafin,  schonste  der  Frauen  ! 
Befehlet,  so  streit'  ich  mit  Kaiser  und  Reich, 
Befehlet,  so  will  ich  fur  Euch,  fur  Euch 
Die  Welt  in  Fetzen  zerhauen ! " 

— JOSEPH  VICTOR  VON  SCHEPFEL. 

NOW  came  a  time  of  quiet  at  Heidelberg,  a  sweet- 
ness of  unhurried  days.  The  princes  and  nobles 
had  returned  to  their  various  domains;  only  Prince 
Christian  of  Anhalt — Hitter  Christel,  as  the  whole  Court 
now  named  him — only  Christel  lingered,  and  none  found 
it  in  their  hearts  to  wish  him  gone.  He  was  so  young 
and  gay,  and  withal  so  gentle  and  thoughtful,  and  men 
said  that  his  hopeless  love  for  the  Lady  Elizabeth  had 
taught  him  a  wonderful  goodness ;  that  love  had  made 
of  him  a  saint ;  and  that  whereas  unrequited  love  usually 
turns  a  man's  soul  bitter,  his  seemed  beautified  and 
sweetened  by  his  unselfish  devotion.  Even  the  Countess 
Juliane  smiled  at  his  ardent  service  of  her  new  Highness 
Palatine ;  none  could  blame  so  pure  a  flame  it  seemed. 
There  was  nothing  of  the  lovesick  swain  about  him,  no 
hint  of  puerile  gallantries,  only  a  glad  devotion,  an  un- 
stinted giving.  And  Elizabeth  Stuart  smiled  at  his  love, 
accepting  the  homage  of  his  worship  unheedingly,  for  all 
her  thoughts  were  given  to  Prince  Friedrich.  Albeit 
without  seeking  it,  she  needs  must  charm  whoe'er  came 
within  the  radiance  of  her  smile  and  the  magic  of  those 
strange,  dark  eyes,  haunted  as  they  seemed  by  the  presage 
of  some  tragic  destiny.  There  was  something  elusive — 
mysterious — about  her,  some  hint  of  romance  which 
enthralled  the  whole  world.  She  had  abundantly  that 


40  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

fateful  charm  which  Marie  Stuart  had  wielded  to  her  un- 
doing— a  gift  of  God  or  of  Satan  to  the  Stuart  race.  This 
living  magic  had  seemed  dead  in  James  I.  of  England, 
and  men  seeing  the  uncouth  king,  recalled  dark  stories  of 
his  birth  and  how  it  had  been  whispered  that  Queen  Marie 
of  Scots  had  borne  a  dead  child  at  Edinburgh  Castle  on 
June  1 9th,  1566,  and  that  a  peasant's  brat  had  been  placed 
in  the  ancient  oaken  cradle  of  Scotland's  kings.  But 
Elizabeth  Stuart  gave  the  lie  to  these  fond  tales,  for  the 
hereditary  charm  worked  mighty  potent  in  her. 

What  is  this  haunting  charm  which  is  given  to  a  feAv 
mortals?  Beauty  may  be  added  to  it,  or  withheld;  it 
is  not  powerful  intellect  which  makes  it,  nor  virtue,  nor 
kindness;  it  is  not  always  the  desire  to  please,  though 
usually  les  grandes  charmeuses  needs  must  throw  their 
spell  over  all,  they  are  compelled  to  enchant  the  villein 
or  the  scullery  wench ;  but  yet,  no  effort  of  mind,  no 
striving,  can  achieve  charm.  It  is  some  intangible  magic ; 
and  those  who  have  had  it  do  not  alone  haunt  their  con- 
temporaries, but  through  the  ages  their  names  conjure 
devotion  and  thrill  the  souls  of  posterity.  With  the 
Stuarts  there  is  the  glamour  of  the  lost  cause  which  calls 
forth  the  chivalry  of  all  generous  souls ;  there  is  the  tragic 
destiny  of  a  doomed  race  which  touches  the  fount  of 
pitiful  reverence  for  sorrow  which  dwells  in  that  strange, 
inconsequent  god,  the  human  heart.  Yet  other  races 
have  perished,  other  causes  have  been  lost,  but  the 
Stuarts  are  enshrined  in  all  minds  as  the  most  charmful 
beings  of  history.  And  long  before  the  doom  fell,  long 
before  the  cause  was  vanquished  for  ever,  the  magic 
worked,  until  even  the  name  of  Stuart  seemed  a  lure 
for  the  devotion  of  all  men  ! 

Elizabeth  Stuart  was  the  incarnation  of  this  compelling 
fascination.  In  Germany  it  was  said  that  Heidelberg 
was  the  new  Court  of  Love ;  but  even  the  Calvinists 
could  not  smirch  the  purity  of  Elizabeth  and  her  house- 
hold ;  for  though  she  banished  austerity,  she  kept  honour 
and  noble  decorum  at  her  side ;  and  though  she  loved 
laughter,  music,  poetry,  and  dancing,  she  forgot  not  prayer ; 


QUIET  DAYS  41 

though  she  lavished  money  on  clothes  and  merry- 
making, her  hand  was  never  empty  when  the  poor  or 
hungry  came  to  her,  nor  her  heart  too  glad  in  her  own 
joy  to  withhold  the  good  sunshine  of  her  tenderness  from 
those  who  mourned.  Each  day  the  people  of  Heidelberg 
grew  to  love  her  more,  and  her  sayings  were  repeated  far 
and  near.  It  mattered  not  that  her  English  retainers 
were  boastful  and  often  insolent ;  the  people  said  that  if 
her  Highness  knew  it  she  would  reprove  them ;  but  for 
the  most  part  they  withheld  their  complaints  from  her 
for  fear  of  casting  a  shadow  on  her  happiness.  Yet,  on 
all  human  happiness  shadows  must  fall,  and  the  brighter 
the  horizon  the  more  intolerable  is  the  smallest  cloud. 
Two  clouds  were  on  Elizabeth's  sky :  King  James's  in- 
junctions concerning  precedence,  and  the  broils  of  her 
English  attendants. 

My  Lady  of  Harrington  still  tarried  at  Heidelberg,  and 
she  counselled  Elizabeth  to  overlook  her  attendants' 
quarrels;  but  Count  Schomberg  was  much  concerned 
and  pressed  for  the  dismissal  of  the  turbulent  English- 
men. 

One  summer  day  Elizabeth  sat  in  one  of  the  terrace 
turrets.  Her  embroidery  frame  was  before  her,  but  her 
hands  lay  a  trifle  listlessly  on  her  knee,  though  ever  and 
anon  she  caressed  her  pet  monkey,  who  sat  close  beside 
her  on  the  stone  seat  of  the  turret. 

"  Art  weary,  sweet  child  ? "  the  Lady  of  Harrington 
inquired. 

"  Nay,  not  weary,  but  this  morning  Schomberg  came  to 
me  with  a  long  history  of  the  misdoings  of  Sir  Andrew 
Keith.  It  would  seem  that  some  of  the  burghers  in  the 
High  Street  jostled  him,  and  he  called  them  greasy  Ger- 
mans and  beer  louts.  By  an  ill  chance  one  among  them 
had  a  few  words  English,  enough  to  translate  his  taunt. 
They  rated  him  back,  and  swords  were  drawn." 

"  Good  lack !  madame,"  said  my  Lord  of  Harrington, 
"  'tis  a  scurvy  trick  of  Schomberg  to  annoy  you  with 
such  tattle.  A  street  broil  means  nothing  and  is  very 
usual." 


42  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Indeed,  my  lord,"  cried  Mistress  Anne  hotly,  "  Count 
Schomberg  is  wise  in  telling  this  tale  to  her  Highness. 
I  keep  the  wenches  in  good  trim  or  we  should  have  an 
English  faction  and  a  German  party  in  her  Highness's 
own  tiring-room  !  And  it  is  insufferable  if  Sir  Andrew 
cannot  bridle  his  tongue  and  keep  his  stable  varlets  in 
order." 

"  Ah  !  Anne,  be  not  wroth  !  Schomberg  is  right,  and 
my  lord  is  right,"  said  her  Highness  wearily.  "  I  will 
speak  with  Sir  Andrew,  and  let  it  be  known  in  the  town 
that  he  but  lost  that  fiery  member  of  his  soul's  com- 
plexity, his  temper,  as  my  royal  father  called  it.  Hans 
Steinberg ! "  she  called  to  a  little  page  who  stood  near, 
"  summon  Sir  Andrew  Keith  to  me  here." 

"  Not  now,  madame,"  said  my  lord  gravely,  "  this  is  not 
the  place." 

"  Tut,  my  lord,"  cried  Elizabeth,  a  flash  of  anger  hi  her 
sombre  eyes,  "  it  shall  be  where  I  will.  Go,  Hans,  and 
swiftly ! "  She  turned  to  Harrington,  repentant  as  she 
ever  was  when  her  quick  mood  had  wounded  any  one  : 
"  Forgive  me,  dear  friend  ;  I  am  sorry  to  disobey  you,  but 
let  me  this  once  do  ray  will,"  she  said.  She  was  like 
some  chidden  child  to  her  life-long  friend  and  governor. 

"  Madame,  you  are  no  longer  a  child  to  be  ruled  by 
me,"  he  answered  with  a  sigh. 

"  Alas !  no.  Those  were  good  days  at  Combe,  and  I 
was  mighty  happy  under  your  guidance  !  I  shall  always 
return  to  Combe — always  till  the  day  of  my  death,"  she 
said. 

"  Come,  dear  madame,  no  sad  thoughts,"  said  Lady 
Harrington.  "  In  truth  you  will  often  return  to  Combe, 
and  then  you'll  weary  for  Heidelberg."  Her  kind,  quiet 
voice,  her  whole  being,  was  so  restful  in  its  homeliness ; 
she  always  seemed  the  embodiment  of  the  safety  of  the 
commonplace,  the  comfortable  security  of  everyday. 

"  In  fact,  as  you  used  to  say  to  me,  dear  lady,"  Eliza- 
beth laughed,  "  there  never  was  a  little  maiden  who  had 
so  much,  and  never  one  like  me  for  always  craving 
more." 


QUIET  DAYS  43 

"  That  was  when  your  Highness  was  a  little  maiden," 
said  Lady  Harrington  peacefully,  as  she  matched  the  hue 
of  a  silken  skein  against  the  brocade  in  her  embroidery 
frame.  "  Now  your  Highness  is  a  grown  woman,  and  a 
wise,  I  trust." 

"  Nay,  nay,  a  little  maiden  for  you  always,"  her 
Highness  said,  and,  leaning  over,  she  kissed  the  elder 
woman's  healthy  pink  cheek.  Lady  Harrington  stroked 
Elizabeth's  hand. 

"  Your  silks  are  in  a  tangle  again,  dear  child,"  she  said. 

"  I  always  tangle  the  threads,"  her  Highness  answered 
ruefully.  "  I  am  a  little  maiden  still  in  that,  you  see." 

•'  Well,  well,  others  besides  little  maidens  tangle  threads 
in  this  world,"  Lady  Harrington  replied,  with  that  touch 
of  homely  wisdom  which  is  the  unconscious  cynicism  of 
those  dowered  with  the  most  uncommon  of  all  the  senses 
— common  sense. 

At  this  moment  Hans  Steinberg,  the  page,  reappeared, 
followed  by  Sir  Andrew  Keith.  Elizabeth  rose  and 
moved  apart  from  the  group  in  the  turret.  There  was 
nothing  of  the  little  maiden  in  her  mien  now,  but  a 
dignity,  a  commanding  manner  which  often  came  to  her. 
Her  monkey  followed  her,  and  springing  upon  the  low 
parapet  of  the  terrace,  sat  like  some  absurd  old  man, 
playing  with  shaky,  eager  little  fingers  with  a  silken  skein 
of  yellow  thread  which  he  had  stolen  from  her  Highness's 
embroidery  frame.  She  patted  the  little  creature's  head, 
and  then,  turning  to  Sir  Andrew,  she  said  quietly  :  "  How 
now,  sir  ?  Did  my  father  send  you  out  of  England  with 
me  as  my  master-of-horse,  or  as  a  swaggering  swash- 
buckler to  offend  my  subjects  in  my  town  of  Heidelberg  ? " 

"  Your  Highness  cannot  know  the  facts  !  "  cried  Keith, 
in  an  excited  tone.  He  was  a  tall,  lanky,  red-haired 
Scotsman,  with  harsh  features  and  small,  sharply  glancing 
blue  eyes.  He  looked  a  man  of  iron,  quiet  and  sober,  but 
those  who  knew  him  were  aware  that  the  quiet  was  a  pit- 
fall, and  that  he  was  fierce  and  passionate ;  quick  to  un- 
reasoning anger,  and  resentful  as  a  small-minded  woman 
of  slights  which  existed  for  the  most  part  in  his  own 


44  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

suspicious  mind.  A  loyal  friend  and  a  treacherous 
enemy,  a  combination  unusual  in  the  rest  of  mankind, 
but  peculiar  to  the  Highland  Scotsman.  He  regarded 
Elizabeth  Stuart  as  his  kinswoman  because  legend  re- 
corded that  a  Keith  had  wed  a  Stuart  some  ten  genera- 
tions back.  He  had  come  to  England  along  with  Robert 
Carr,  now  preening  himself  at  Whitehall  as  my  Lord 
Rochester ;  and  Keith,  being  a  penniless  youth,  had 
grabbed  at  the  mastership-of-horse  to  her  new  Highness 
Palatine.  They  had  tried  to  oust  him  from  his  post  as 
soon  as  Elizabeth  had  arrived  at  Heidelberg,  for  he  had 
shown  himself  sulky  and  touchy  on  the  journey  hither ; 
but  he  had  clung  to  his  office,  and  grasped  all  he  could 
of  emoluments  and  perquisites. 

He  stood  now  before  Elizabeth  proudly,  for  such  men 
do  not  cringe,  and  reproof  always  raises  the  fierce  pride  in 
them.  There  was  a  certain  gaunt  dignity  about  the  man. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  "  your  Highness  would  not  have 
me  submit  to  rudeness  from  a  German  lout  ?  " 

"  Nay,  sir,  if  incivility  were  intended ;  but  I  would 
have  you  know  that  such  manners  bring  me  disaffection 
in  my  townspeople.  Who  can  speak  in  your  defence, 
sir  ?  Who  saw  the  quarrel  ? " 

"The  Baron  Falkenberg,  his  Highness's  master-of- 
horse,  stood  near,  madame ;  but  I  misdoubt  me  he  will 
side  with  his  countryman  an  you  question  him.  We  are 
strangers  here — you  and  I,  madame,"  he  said  boldly. 

"  Strangers,"  she  laughed.  "  Sir  Andrew,  strangers 
may  be  better  friends  than  kinsmen  sometimes.  Come, 
vow  me  there  shall  be  no  more  such  fighting  over  trifles." 

"  Your  Highness  asks  me  to  submit  to  German  loons  ?  " 
he  cried  hotly. 

"  Tut,  man,  German  loons  are  peaceful  citizens.  I  bid 
you  keep  the  peace,"  she  said. 

"  You  do  not  know  the  rights  of  it,  madame,"  he 
answered  stubbornly. 

"  Well,  here  comes  Falkenberg ;  I  will  ask  him  myself, 
sir."  She  beckoned  the  courtier  to  her  side,  and  speaking 
in  French,  as  was  her  habit  to  her  German  subjects,  for 


QUIET  DAYS  45 

she  never  mastered  the  German  tongue  thoroughly,  she 
said :  "  Monsieur  de  Falkenberg,  Sir  Andrew  begs  you 
speak  of  what  you  saw  yesterday  in  the  High  Street. 
Was  my  countryman  subjected  to  insolence  ? " 

Falkenberg  hesitated ;  he  was  no  friend  to  Keith  and 
wished  him  gone,  but  he  feared  the  turbulent  Scotsman. 

"  Your  Highness,  I  am  not  concerned  in  this  matter," 
he  said  at  last.  "  It  should  be  dealt  with  by  Sir 
Andrew's  superior.  Probably  Count  Schomberg  is  the 
proper  person." 

"  Sir,  we  are  not  bandying  words  like  the  first  or  second 
writers  in  a  merchant's  counting-house,"  cried  Keith. 
"  We  cannot  cope  with  your  first  in  authority  !  In  Eng- 
land, sir,  we  speak  as  one  gentleman  to  another,  not  as 
to  who  is  in  this  or  that  office  ! " 

Falkenberg  puffed  himself  out  like  some  offended 
rooster ;  all  the  instinct  of  the  German  for  office,  autho- 
rity, and  correctness  seemed  to  swell  within  him.  His 
eyes  grew  round,  his  face  portentously  solemn ;  his 
cheeks  puffed  till  his  mouth  looked  ridiculously  small. 
He  was  cursed  with  very  short  arms,  and  his  comfort- 
ably rounded  person  caused  him  to  hold  them  always 
a  little  curved,  which  gave  him  a  more  than  naturally 
pompous  air. 

"As  master  of  his  Highness's  horse  I  am  not  in  a 
position  to  pronounce  on  the  actions  of  her  Highness's 
master-of-horse,"  he  said,  and  Prudence,  that  sour  mis- 
tress who  directs  most  Germans'  actions,  lived  in  every 
tone.  Now  it  was  not  the  man's  words,  but  his  attitude 
towards  life  which  maddened  Keith. 

"  Falkenberg  ! "  he  cried  loudly,  "  you  are  a  laughable 
loon  yourself." 

"  Sir  Andrew  ! "  returned  the  other,  "  my  honour  for- 
bids me  to  hear  such  words !  I  beg  to  challenge " 

"  Oh  !  the  devil  fly  away  with  your  honour ! "  bawled 
Keith.  "  Cannot  you  speak  out  like  a  cavalier  ?  "  The 
disputants  each  fell  out  of  the  French  into  their  own 
mother  tongues — Keith  into  broad,  rough  Scots,  and 
Falkenberg  into  Rhenish  German.  The  quarrel  grew 


46  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

loud,  and  my  Lord  of  Harrington  came  forward  out  of 
the  terrace  turret  to  still  the  flood  of  angry  words. 

"  Gentlemen !  it  is  unseemly  to  brawl  before  her 
Highness,"  he  called. 

But  neither  heeded  him.  Keith's  rage  was  fairly  let 
loose,  and  Falkenberg  was  blustering  and  asserting  his 
own  importance.  It  was  an  absurd  scene,  and  her  High- 
ness stood  by  and  laughed,  for  she  could  never  resist 
laughter  when  it  came  to  her.  Falkenberg  made  a 
vigorous  gesture  with  his  short,  thick  arm  ;  Keith  thought 
it  was  a  menaced  blow,  and,  in  an  instant,  both  men  had 
drawn  their  swords  and  were  fencing  furiously. 

The  monkey  sprang  from  the  parapet  and  fled  to 
Elizabeth,  hiding  his  strangely  human  face  in  the  folds 
of  her  ample  skirts.  At  this  moment  Count  Schomberg 
appeared  on  the  terrace. 

"Hold!"  he  thundered.  "Hold!  you  fools!  Know 
you  not  that  her  Highness  is  enceinte,  and  that  this  may 
frighten  her  to  her  harm  ? "  He  caught  Falkenberg 
by  the  cloak  and  dragged  him  back,  while  my  Lord  of 
Harrington  hung  on  Keith's  sword  arm. 

Elizabeth  leaned  against  the  terrace  parapet,  her 
sombre  eyes  were  ablaze  with  anger,  and  her  delicate 
cheeks  had  flushed  to  the  colour  of  a  wild-rose  petal. 
Keith  stood  sullen  and  fierce  in  my  lord's  grasp ; 
Falkenberg  poured  forth  a  torrent  of  German  to  Count 
Schomberg;  Lady  Harrington  attempted  to  support  her 
Highness,  and  Mistress  Anne  Dudley  offered  her  a  little 
crystal  flagon  of  potent  essence. 

"  Remove  these  gentlemen,  Schomberg,"  her  Highness 
cried,  while  she  drew  back  haughtily  from  Lady  Harring- 
ton's encircling  arm,  and  pushed  away  the  flagon  with  a 
trembling  hand. 

Half-a-dozen  courtiers  had  arrived  on  the  scene ;  they 
surrounded  Keith  and  Falkenberg,  and  hurried  them 
through  the  archway  from  the  terrace  to  the  court- 
yard. 

"  Come,  madame,  dear  love,  and  rest,"  said  Lady  Har- 
rington. "You  feel  no  evil  from  this  untoward  noisi- 


QUIET  DAYS  47 

ness  ? "  But  Elizabeth  Stuart  gave  no  answer  to  the 
older  lady's  anxious  queries. 

"  Count  Schomberg ! "  she  said,  and  threw  back  her 
head  proudly.  "  Monsieur,  who  gave  you  leave  to  an- 
nounce the  state  of  my  health  to  all  the  world  ?  How 
do  you  know  what  is  with  me  or  what  is  not  ?  I  forbid 
mention  of  such  things  to  me  or  of  me ! " 

"  But,  madame,  think  of  the  profound  importance  to 
the  whole  Protestant  cause  which  awaits  this  prince 
as  its  champion,"  Count  Schomberg  said  in  a  heavy, 
pompous  tone. 

"  Harken  to  me,  monsieur,"  cried  her  Highness  vehe- 
mently. "  If  you  all  preach  to  me  for  ever  of  this  prince, 
e'en  an  it  be  a  boy,  I'll  dress  him  as  a  maiden  and  teach 
him  to  sew  tuckers.  That  is,"  she  added  hastily,  "  if  I 
am  enceinte,  which  I  deny — and  which  is  also  my  affair 
if  lam!" 

"  Sweet  madame,  did  I  ne'er  give  you  lessons  in  logic 
at  Combe  ?  "  said  Harrington,  laughing. 

Her  Highness's  swift  anger  was  past,  and  she  laughed 
too.  "  Logic  and  men's  wits  !  Hey  !  but  I'll  match  my 
unlogic  against  them  and  get  the  best  of  the  bargain ! 
And  now,  Count  Schomberg,  have  my  horses  saddled.  I 
would  ride  out  and  practise  my  new  falcon  at  a  sham 
quarry." 

"Madame,  I  entreat! — it  is  not  safe  for  you  to  ride 
thus  constantly !  Rest  and " 

"  Ah  !  Schomberg,  Schomberg !  an  you  say  another 
word  I'll  order  a  tilting  bout  and  tilt  at  the  ring  myself. 
For  the  nonce,  sir,  comprehend  I  am  not  enceinte!" 
She  laughed,  and  catching  up  her  monkey,  who  had 
cowered  half-hidden  in  her  skirts  all  the  time,  she  hurried 
away  to  change  her  gown  for  her  green  velvet  riding- 
dress.  As  she  passed  up  the  winding  staircase  of  the  Fried- 
rich's  Bau,  they  heard,  through  the  open  casements,  how 
she  sang  an  absurd  little  lullaby  to  the  small,  wizened-faced 
monkey,  calling  him  her  sweeting,  her  treasure,  her  dearest 
son,  and  only  child. 


48  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Yet  it  was  a  peaceful  time  in  Heidelberg,  in  spite  of 
ripples  on  the  surface  caused  by  the  Englishmen  and  by 
the  question  of  precedence.  The  river  of  life  was  smooth, 
and  political  cross-currents  only  played  beyond  in  the  sea 
of  European  action.  The  Hapsburg  Rudolf  II.,  scholar, 
bibliophile,  and  lover  of  rare  curios,  had  left  his  collec- 
tion in  the  Hradcany  at  Prague,  had  left  his  unwieldy 
empire  of  turbulent  religious  factions,  and  had  gone  to 
his  long  rest  in  the  year  1612.  Matthias,  his  rebellious 
brother,  had  succeeded  him  ;  and,  in  the  intervals  of 
warfare  against  the  Turks  and  that  daring  adventurer, 
Bethlem  Gabor,  was  laying  the  foundation  of  bitter  strife 
by  his  refusal  to  recognise  the  Letter  of  Royal  Protection 
wrested  by  the  Bohemian  Protestants  from  poor,  weak, 
dreamy  Emperor  Antiquary  Rudolf.  England  was  much 
occupied  by  my  Lord  of  Essex's  coming  divorce  trial,  and 
the  Court  was  babbling  of  disgusting  details  and  my  Lord 
of  Rochester's  hopes;  was  wondering  why  Sir  Thomas 
Overbury  lay  in  the  Tower,  was  whispering  that  they  must 
hush  him  as  he  knew  dark  secrets,  anent  Prince  Henry's 
death  too ;  the  Court  and  its  slobbering  Solomon,  thus 
busy,  played  for  the  nonce  no  part  in  the  European  con- 
cert. In  France  that  amorous  king,  Henry  IV.,  had 
perished,  and  Louis  XIII.  was  growing  up  under  Marie 
de  Medici's  care ;  Sully,  the  noble  statesman  of  a  humor- 
ous monarch,  was  living  retired  in  his  quiet  country  refuge 
at  Rosny,  watching  with  grave  eyes  how  Marie  de  Medici, 
the  Regent,  squandered  untold  wealth  on  her  Concinis, 
and  how  politically  she  leaned  ever  more  towards  Spain 
since  the  affiancing  of  Louis  XIII.  to  the  Infanta  Anna. 
It  was  the  silence,  the  lull  before  the  storm ;  and  at 
Heidelberg  it  was  very  still. 

The  Lady  Elizabeth  went  a-hunting,  and  danced  in 
the  evening  in  the  stately  Mirror  Gallery.  Lord  and  Lady 
Harrington  still  tarried  at  Heidelberg,  and  also  Ritter 
Christel,  who  followed  her  Highness  wherever  she  went. 
Friedrich  himself  took  some  part  in  the  gay  doings, 
but  he  continued  his  studies  in  policy  and  statescrai't. 
Master  Scultetus,  the  grim  theologian,  was  his  teacher, 


QUIET  DAYS  49 

and  daily  he  exhorted  his  Highness  to  be  the  champion 
of  the  down-trodden  Calvinists;  daily  he  read  to  him 
letters  out  of  Bohemia,  telling  of  ruined  pastors  ousted 
from  their  parishes,  of  churches  built  by  Protestant  com- 
munities now  closed  by  Imperial  mandate,  of  oppression 
and  misery.  Sometimes  he  recounted  strange  prophesies 
spoken  by  holy  visionaries,  of  how  a  king  would  arise — 
another  David — to  smite  the  unholy  Goliath  of  Austria, 
that  servant  of  the  High  Priest  of  Antichrist.  Scultetus 
worked  on  the  fresh  soil  of  Friedrich's  young  mind,  sow- 
ing the  seed  of  enthusiasm,  and  watering  the  sprouting 
seedlings  with  a  gentle  rain  of  personal  flattery.  Religious 
enthusiasm  waxed  strong,  and  beside  that  fast-springing 
plant  another  flowering  tree  grew  up — Ambition.  To 
tend  this  last  Scultetus  called  Love  to  his  aid ;  he  said 
that  the  Lady  Elizabeth  was  a  queen  among  women, 
why  should  she  not  be  the  empress  of  a  reformed 
empire  ? 

"  Man,  where  will  you  out  with  your  dreams  ? "  cried 
Friedrich. 

"  But,  sir,  has  there  not  been  an  emperor  among  your 
forbears  ?  And  why  not  again  ?  An  emperor — a  cham- 
pion of  pure  life — a  helper  of  the  oppressed — a  king  of 
the  sweet  and  reasonable  faith  ? "  murmured  Scultetus. 

"  God  wot !  master,  you  are  dreaming  ! — and  yet  how 
fair  a  dream  ! "  said  the  lover  of  Elizabeth  Stuart. 

"  But  the  time  is  not  yet,"  whispered  the  Calvinist. 
"  Work,  my  Lord  Friedrich.  Work  and  watch  and  pray, 
that  you  may  inherit  the  earth." 

"  Yes,  master,  for  the  glory  of  God ! "  said  Friedrich, 
dreaming  of  Elizabeth  as  queen. 

Who  that  knew  her  could  help  dreaming  of  her  as  of  a 
queen  among  women  ?  She  was  so  beautiful,  with  her 
great  sombre  brown  eyes,  her  auburn  hair,  her  pale 
clear  skin,  where,  on  temple  and  breast,  the  blue 
veins  showed  like  some  delicate  tracery  of  youth's  own 
pencil ;  her  full,  fresh  lips,  where  lurked  the  magic  of 
her  smile,  whose  sunshine  wandered  up  from  lip  to  brow 
and  lit  the  deep  eyes  to  soft  lustre.  She  was  very  tall 

D 


50  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

and  slight,  yet  with  broad,  majestic  shoulders,  which 
supported  the  grand  column  of  her  neck  and  the  long 
line  of  her  young  full  throat.  She,  who  was  a  king's 
daughter,  looked  a  queen;  and  Friedrich,  remembering 
Anne  of  Denmark's  scornful  naming  of  her  "  Goody 
Palsgrave,"  sighed,  and  wished  he  had  been  born  a  king 
to  crown  her  queen.  What  mattered  it  that  honest 
Schomberg  complained  she  had  not  the  proper  dignity 
of  an  electress  ?  She  was  so  young  in  her  impetuosity, 
so  merry,  so  proud,  and  yet  so  clinging  to  those  she 
trusted — to  the  Harringtons,  to  Mistress  Anne  Dudley, 
to  Schomberg  himself.  Schomberg  opined  that  she 
trusted  too  easily.  "Madame  is  so  facile,"  he  was  for 
ever  saying.  Her  own  heart  was  full  of  sunshine, 
and  it  seemed  that  she  could  not  suffer  a  shadow  to  fall 
on  any  one  who  was  near  her.  She  hated  the  disagree- 
ables of  life  more  than  other  women — dreaded  them  a 
little,  too — and  Schomberg  said  that  madame  was  weak ; 
but  it  was  not  weakness,  for  when  she  wanted  anything 
she  desired  it  violently,  and  was  strong  to  achieve  her 
will.  Only  for  the  smaller  matters  of  life  she  was  a 
little  indifferent,  and,  feeling  the  longing  of  others  for 
trifles,  she  must  for  ever  be  giving  content  by  gratifying 
wishes.  Money  was  a  name  to  her.  What  ?  was  that 
poor  wretch  sad  because  he  lacked  a  house  ?  That 
damsel  weeping  because  she  could  not  wed  her  penniless 
swain  ?  "  Quick  !  my  casket  where  the  English  gold 
is  hid — quick  !  Let  me  make  these  sad  ones  merry 
again."  And  then  her  drolleries,  for  out  of  sheer  gaiety 
and  quick  wit  she  was  mighty  droll  at  times ;  said 
outrageous  things  which  startled  her  hearers  to  laughter 
and  alarm ;  yet  she  was  never  coarse,  for  the  fire  of  her 
true  merriment  burned  out  any  stain  of  lewdness  which 
might  otherwise  have  spoiled  the  quaint  quip.  Such 
names,  too,  as  she  had  for  all ! — "  Old  Vinegar  Snout,"  she 
called  Scultetus ;  "  Pig's  Face  "  was  that  magnificent,  over- 
perfumed,  ostentatious  ambassador  Hay,  become  my  Lord 
of  Doncaster  by  King  James's  favour,  and  allowed  to 
journey  right  often  to  Heidelberg  in  order  to  see  Eliza- 


QUIET  DAYS  51 

beth,  whom  he  adored.  "  The  Old  Apple  Woman  "  she 
named  my  Lady  of  Harrington,  offering  her  a  booth  in 
the  High  Street  of  Heidelberg  wherein  "  to  ply  the  trade 
wherefore  the  Almighty  had  created  her,"  so  her  High- 
ness said.  Friedrich  himself  she  spoke  of  as  her  "  Nigger 
Drakelet "  because  of  his  swarthy  skin  and  his  duck-like 
waddle,  she  averred.  Schomberg  was  "  Monsieur  Sans 
Ducat,  Mare'chal  de  1'Ennui " ;  Anne  Dudley  "  Madame  la 
Marechale  Unwed."  After  a  solemn  wrangle  anent  pre- 
cedence, which  had  set  discord  between  Juliane,  Friedrich, 
and  Schomberg,  she  would  walk  into  the  banqueting-hall 
holding  her  monkey  at  arm's  length  before  her,  and  call- 
ing out  gravely :  "  See,  madame  ma  mere  !  His  splendid 
Highness  Jack  says  he  takes  precedence  of  me  !  Of  a 
truth,  his  royal  father  wills  it !  "  Then,  when  Juliane 
looked  wounded  at  her  levity,  down  was  plumped  Master 
Jack,  and  down  went  the  Lady  Elizabeth  on  her  knees 
before  the  old  Electress,  and  it  was:  "Madame  ma  mere, 
what  does  it  signify  ?  You  take  precedence  of  my  mother 
because  you  gave  me  Friedrich,  while  she  only  gave  me 
myself ! "  And  she  would  kiss  and  cosset  Juliane  like  a 
little  maiden  at  a  loved  mother's  knee.  When  they 
rode  through  Heidelberg,  who  would  have  recognised  the 
stately  lady  ?  Or  when  foreign  guests  sojourned  in  the 
castle,  who  would  have  believed  this  gracious,  dignified 
Princess  to  be  the  winsome  trickster  that  she  was  ? 

She  had  all  the  complexity  of  the  spontaneous,  all  the 
contradictions  of  a  grand  and  generous  nature.  She  could 
be  wayward  as  a  silly  child,  wise  and  sensible  as  a  grave 
woman,  facile  to  weakness  (as  Schomberg  said),  and  deter- 
mined as  a  warrior ;  gentle  and  patient,  and  then  a  rough 
word  or  a  cruel  saying  would  awaken  a  very  devil  of  rage 
in  her,  after  the  manner  of  her  godmother-kinswoman, 
Elizabeth  of  England  of  splendid  memory. 

She  was  silent  where  she  felt  most  deeply,  a  silence 
which  pride  taught  her,  and  those  who  said  she  was 
heartless  little  knew  what  tenderness  was  in  her,  and  what 
capacity  for  pain.  They  thought  she  was  unfeeling  about 
her  brother  Henry,  whose  death  had  cast  a  shadow  on  her 


52  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

wedding  festivities ;  for  she  spoke  of  him  often,  but  always 
gaily  as  though  he  still  lived,  and  none  knew,  save  Fried- 
rich  and  Mistress  Anne  Dudley,  that  she  spoke  thus  be- 
cause had  she  weakened  the  fortress  of  her  soul  by  sad 
words,  the  yearning  in  her  heart  would  have  broken  forth 
hi  tears  and  despair ;  and  then  she  could  never  have 
spoken  of  him  again  as  she  loved  to  do.  There  are  some 
women  who  must  e'en  be  silent  thus,  for  their  sorrow  is 
too  deep  to  bear  the  casual  pity  which  would  wound  anew 
and  defile  the  sanctuary  of  their  mourning ;  and  these  are 
the  women  whom  the  world  always  believes  to  be  heartless. 
Early  hi  August  my  Lord  of  Harrington  and  his  lady 
took  leave  of  Elizabeth  and  started  on  their  tedious 
journey  back  to  England.  It  was  bitter  to  Elizabeth,  for 
she  felt  that  in  parting  from  these  trusted  friends  she  bid 
farewell  for  ever  to  childhood's  thoughtless  gaiety.  Lord 
Harrington  had  been  a  father  to  her,  a  vast  deal  more 
paternal  than  the  egoistic  James ;  and  Lady  Harrington 
had  ever  been  such  a  mother  as  the  frivolous,  foolish 
Queen  could  never  have  been,  even  had  she  kept  her 
children  at  her  side  instead  of  giving  them  over  from 
early  childhood  to  the  care  of  others.  It  was  painful, 
too,  for  Elizabeth  to  know  that  the  Harringtons  returned 
to  penury  and  debt  in  England ;  and  that  this  poverty 
was  caused  by  the  expenses  intendant  on  their  steward- 
ship for  her — expenses  not  defrayed  by  the  paltry  sum 
given  for  her  household  by  King  James.  Her  Highness 
knew  that  her  royal  father  would  be  generous — in  pro- 
mises. She  saw  in  memory's  clear  vision  the  King's 
solemn,  false  face,  she  heard  him  sneer  in  the  privacy  of 
the  family  circle :  "  Ech  !  sirs,  we  hae  fair  stilled  the  auld 
cock's  plaints,  now  let  him  gang  his  ain  gait  wi'  his  empty 
purse !  He  canna  get  bawbees  frae  a  man  wha  hasna 
ony ! "  For  his  Majesty  of  England's  speech  relaxed 
into  the  broadest  of  Lowland  Scots  in  private,  and  in 
public,  too,  for  that  matter,  when  his  irascible  temper 
burst  forth.  Elizabeth  consoled  herself  by  planning  visits 
to  England :  how  she  would  sojourn  at  Combe  Abbey 
once  more  and  wander  in  that  delightful  garden  which 


QUIET  DAYS  53 

she,  as  a  little  maiden,  had  named  "  my  territories."  She 
would  revisit  her  Fairy  Farm,  where  small  cows,  tiny 
Shetland  ponies,  and  dwarf  poultry  had  been  kept  for 
her.  Her  Fairy  Farm !  Ah  !  how  good  those  days  of 
childhood  had  been  !  True,  Mistress  Tyrell,  the  nurse- 
woman,  had  oft  reproved  her  Highness  for  the  lack  of 
dignity  which  prompted  her  to  sport  with  peasant  brats, 
but  Elizabeth  Stuart  had  made  answer  that  they  were  so 
good  to  her — "  so  good  and  kind  " — she  said.  And  if 
my  little  Lady  Phyllis  Devereux,  cetat.  nine  summers, 
had  proved  sullen  or  cross-tempered ;  if  Master  Edmund 
Talbot  had  been  rough  or  angry  ;  why,  then,  had  Sally 
Jones,  the  smithy's  daughter,  been  the  better  playmate, 
and  Hal  Titmouse,  the  cowherd's  lad,  the  "sweeter  gossip," 
as  her  Highness  named  it. 

When  Mistress  Tyrell  had  summoned  the  Lady  Elizabeth 
home  for  the  formal  supper,  saying,  "  Come,  come,  madame, 
it  is  time  !  I  pray  your  Grace  to  leave  the  pert  varlets!" 
she  had  thrown  her  arms  round  Hal  Titmouse's  neck  and 
had  bid  him  farewell  with  a  frank  friendship  she  deigned 
not  bestow  on  the  serving-wench's  upstart  pretension. 

"  Alack  !  the  beloved  maiden  reeks  of  the  byre  !  "  had 
exclaimed  my  Lady  of  Harrington  when  Elizabeth  re- 
turned, and  then  the  sorry  tale  of  her  Highness  and  the 
cowherd's  embrace  had  shrilled  from  Mistress  Tyrell's 
righteous  lips. 

"  Leave  the  little  maiden  !  "  had  cried  my  Lady  of  Har- 
rington in  her  sound  good  sense ;  and  to  Lord  Harrington 
she  had  averred  :  "  Leave  her  Grace,  her  sweet  kiss  is  fair 
and  honest,  and  no  indignity,  methinks,  my  lord,  to  the 
stable  lad  nor  to  her  Highness." 

Then,  too,  there  had  been  a  small  island  in  a  little  lake 
in  the  park,  where  forget-me-nots  and  irises,  tall  yellow 
kingcups,  marsh-mallows,  and  fragrant  meadow-sweet  had 
succeeded  one  another  in  the  task  of  beautifying  Elizabeth's 
"  Isle  of  Constant  Spring,"  as  she  had  called  it. 

Yes,  as  she  bade  farewell  at  Heidelberg  to  my  Lady  of 
Harrington  she  vowed  she  would  soon  revisit  Combe  and 
these  dear  haunts  of  childhood. 


54  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

But  a  week  after  the  Harringtons  had  started  on  their 
tedious  journey  to  England  the  news  had  come  to  Heidel- 
berg of  how  my  lord  had  fallen  ill  of  a  malignant  fever, 
and  had  died  with  tender  words  of  remembrance  of  "  my 
loved  Lady  Elizabeth  "  on  his  lips.  Truly  her  Highness 
mourned  him,  and  bitterly  she  reproached  herself  for  every 
childish  prank  or  petulant  mood  of  hers  which  had  troubled 
my  lord  in  the  bygone  days.  It  was  Elizabeth  Stuart's 
first  acquaintance  with  Death  the  Irrevocable. 

Autumn  came  to  Heidelberg  and  made  glorious  the  beech 
woods  with  crimson  and  gold,  with  russet  and  purple,  and 
touched  to  splendour  the  long,  low  hills.  But  Summer  was 
loth  to  leave  the  world  that  year,  and  it  seemed  as  though 
she  masqueraded  under  Autumn's  cloak  of  many  colours, 
so  that  Rain  and  Cold,  recognising  her  beneath  the  dis- 
guise, stayed  in  affright  away,  hidden  with  Winter. 

Each  day  her  Highness  rode  out,  sometimes  with  her 
hooded  falcon  on  her  wrist,  sometimes  bent  on  long  wander- 
ings through  the  quiet  woods.  Christel  was  always  in 
attendance  and  Mistress  Anne  Dudley,  but  Prince  Fried  - 
rich  often  stayed  at  home,  for  much  as  he  loved  the  gay 
expeditions,  he  was  too  punctilious  in  the  performance  of 
graver  duties  to  neglect  them  even  for  Elizabeth's  sake ; 
and  the  coming  year  would  see  him  not  only  directing 
Palatine  affairs,  but  acting  as  the  acknowledged  head  of 
the  Union  of  Protestant  Princes,  whose  chief  his  father, 
Friedrich  IV.,  had  also  been.  Friedrich  took  himself  and 
his  position  seriously,  perchance  a  trifle  heavily,  mistaking 
heaviness  for  power  and  real  weight.  Yet  his  mind  was 
too  lovelit  for  thorough  absorption  in  matters  of  State. 
He  did  his  best,  but  his  best  was  not  good  enough,  not 
strong  enough.  He  was  a  Prince  Charming,  a  delightful 
lover,  a  true  gentleman,  a  brave  youth,  but  the  good  God 
had  not  made  him  a  statesman  or  a  strong  man.  The 
good  God  so  often  makes  a  man  for  one  career  and  gives 
him  another  task.  Is  it  one  of  the  ironies  of  an  all-seeing 
Providence,  or  do  the  angels  shuffle  the  souls  and  their 
destinies,  and  is  God  Almighty  as  puzzled  as  we  are  when 
He  sees  the  crooked  results  ? 


QUIET  DAYS  55 

Once  when  riding  through  the  golden  woods  her  High- 
ness's  horse  shied  at  a  figure  which  appeared  suddenly 
from  out  a  clump  of  hazel-trees  at  the  outskirts  of  the 
forest.  It  was  a  tall  figure  dressed  in  vivid- coloured 
garments,  a  woman  with  a  wildness  of  black  hair  hung 
with  small  gold  corns  and  scarlet  tassels. 

"Only  a  wandering  Egyptian,  sweet  cousin,"  said  Christel, 
as  Elizabeth,  startled,  drew  back.  "  See,  yonder  is  their 
camp,  the  blue  smoke  from  their  fire  is  curling  over  the 
tree-tops." 

"  What  would  she  with  me  ? "  her  Highness  asked,  as 
the  Egyptian  stood  in  her  way.  "  Ask  her,  Christel.  I 
cannot  go  forward  without  riding  over  her." 

Meanwhile  two  of  the  huntsmen  in  their  green  coats 
and  large  tan-coloured  felt  hats,  had  dismounted  and  were 
endeavouring  to  drag  the  woman  aside.  She  shook  them 
off  fiercely,  and,  drawing  a  dagger-pm  from  out  her  heavy 
hair,  would  have  stabbed  one  of  the  men  had  his  comrade 
not  stayed  her  arm.  The  angry  man  raised  his  whip  and 
would  have  brought  it  down  on  the  woman's  shoulders, 
but  Christel  sprang  forward  and  bade  him  hold.  The  whole 
cavalcade  had  ridden  up  and  formed  a  laughing  group 
around  her  Highness,  Christel,  and  the  gipsy. 

"  What  would  you,  woman  ? "  called  Elizabeth  in  her 
halting  German. 

"  There  is  Destiny  in  your  face,  lady,"  the  gipsy  re- 
turned ;  "  give  me  gold  and  I  will  tell  your  future !  " 

"  Ah !  a  soothsayer  !  Well,  would  you  see  my  hand  ?  " 
cried  her  Highness  merrily,  drawing  off  her  embroidered 
gauntlet. 

"  Nay,  lady — 'tis  written  in  your  face  !  But  I  reveal  no 
secrets  without  my  price." 

"  Schomberg,  give  her  a  gold  piece.  Tut,  man ! "  she 
cried  as  Schomberg  shook  his  head.  "  One  gold  piece 
cannot  empty  my  treasury.  See  now,  I  want  to  hear  my 
fortune  read  from  my  face ! "  She  dismounted,  aided  by 
Christel.  "  Now,  soothsayer,  predict  me  happiness  !  "  she 
said  lightly. 

The  woman  looked  at  her  with  an  earnest  gaze  for  a 


56  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

moment.  "  Take  back  your  gold,  lady,"  she  murmured, 
and,  flinging  the  coin  on  the  ground,  she  would  have  fled. 

"  Stay  her,  Christel,  stay  her ! "  cried  Elizabeth,  her 
curiosity  thoroughly  aroused.  Prince  Christian  caught 
the  gipsy's  arm.  "  No  mumming,  woman,"  he  said  sternly ; 
"  you  know  who  this  lady  is  ? " 

"  I  only  came  into  this  countryside  last  night.  You 
are  from  the  Court,  my  pretty  gentleman,  but  I  know  not 
who  you  are.  Let  me  go — I  dare  not  tell  that  lady  what 
I  read  in  her  face — let  me  go — let  me  go " 

"  Is  it  death  you  see  ? "  whispered  Christian,  his  cheek 
blanching. 

"  Not  death  but  sorrow,  great  and  long  sorrow,"  she 
whispered. 

"  Christel,  you  squire  of  dames  !  "  cried  her  Highness, 
"  are  you  philandering  even  with  the  Egyptian  ?  Come  ! 
I  want  my  fortune  told  like  any  country  wench  at  a  fair  ! " 

"  Say  something,  woman — any  foolery,  and  begone," 
Christel  muttered, as  he  thrust  the  gipsy  towards  Elizabeth. 

"  Nay,  if  I  read  a  fortune  I  must  read  it  true,  or  my  gift 
of  foreknowledge  would  vanish  for  ever,"  she  cried  loudly. 

"  Tell  me  my  future  as  you  see  it,"  said  Elizabeth. 

Silence  fell  on  the  laughing  group ;  not  a  man  of  them 
but  believed  in  signs,  omens,  and  portents,  and  the  woman's 
evident  anxiety  to  be  spared  her  task  had  struck  a  note 
of  terror  to  the  listeners'  souls. 

"  Lady,  you  order  me  to  tell  you  ?  Then  hearken  !  " 
the  Egyptian  said  solemnly.  "  In  your  face  is  beauty — 
fatal  to  men's  hearts."  She  paused,  and  a  sigh  of  relief  went 
up  from  the  listeners.  After  all,  it  was  only  the  old  patter 
they  had  all  heard  a  dozen  times  at  country  Kerrnesses. 

Some  one  laughed ;  some  one  said,  "  A  dark  man  loves 
her,  and  two  fair  men  yearn  for  her." 

"  Be  silent ! "  the  Egyptian  cried,  in  a  voice  so  fiercely 
commanding  that  the  laughter  was  stilled.  "  Be  silent ! 
This  is  no  merrymaking  !  Lady,  the  day  will  come  when 
you  will  rue  that  your  beauty  made  one  man  to  be  rash 
for  you,  and  hundreds  to  die  for  you.  Failure  is  written 
on  your  brow,  and  long  years  to  mourn  failure.  You  will 


QUIET  DAYS  57 

bring  sorrow  to  those  you  love,  despair  to  those  who  love 
you.  I  see  you  dying  in  a  land  beyond  the  sea,  old,  and 
lonely,  and  forgotten.  There  is  doom  in  your  glance, 
lady." 

A  cry  went  up  from  the  throng  of  huntsmen :  "  She  is 
an  evil  witch — to  the  river  with  her  ! "  and  rough  hands 
were  laid  upon  her. 

"  Leave  her  to  me,"  cried  Elizabeth.  "  Woman,"  she 
said,  "  why  do  you  say  such  dark  things  to  me  ? " 

"You  ordered  me  to  tell  you,  lady,"  returned  the 
Egyptian,  and  there  was  a  proud  dignity  in  her  mien. 

"  Go  in  peace,"  said  Elizabeth ;  "  and  mark  you,"  she 
added,  turning  to  the  courtiers,  "  I  will  have  no  harm 
done  her.  It  is  a  foolish  mumming,  but  she  believes 
what  she  says.  Here  ! "  she  flung  the  woman  another  gold 
piece.  "  And  next  time  we  meet,  prophesy  me  a  happy 
future."  She  turned  away  carelessly,  and  remounted. 

"  A  foolish  trick ;  but  I  am  thankful  his  Highness  was 
not  by,  for  he  fears  such  things  and  deems  them  true, 
while  I — ha  !  Christel,  a  heron  !  Quick!  Master  Falconer, 
off  with  the  hood  !  Up,  merry  lady,  up  !  See,  she  spies 
the  quarry  !  "  she  cried,  as  the  falcon  flew,  rising  to  a  mere 
speck  in  the  still  air  high  above  the  heron,  which  flew 
with  outstretched  wings  over  the  open  grassland  towards 
a  distant  wood. 

"  Christel !  the  heron  shows  fight.  See  !  he  is  flying  on 
his  back.  Good  lack  !  and  it  is  the  young  falcon ;  will  she 
know  how  to  avoid  the  bird's  spear  beak  ?  She  swoops ! 
she  swoops  !  Ah  !  she  has  him  ! — on  !  on  !  "  Elizabeth 
Stuart  galloped  towards  the  spot  where  the  antagonists  of 
the  air  had  fallen  in  a  struggling  mass.  In  her  mind  she 
had  struck  a  childlike,  fantastic  bargain  with  Fate :  If  the 
falcon  was  speared  by  the  heron's  beak  she  would  give 
credence  to  the  Egyptian's  warning;  if  the  heron  lay 
vanquished  beneath  the  falcon's  claws,  then  all  would  be 
well  with  Elizabeth  Stuart,  and  the  Egyptian  had  spoken 
a  fond  tale.  With  beating  heart  she  galloped  on,  followed 
by  hawkers  and  falconers. 

"  She  has  him  !  she  has  him  ! "  she  cried,  as  she  came 


58  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

to  the  fluttering  combatants.  "  Thank  God !  she  has 
him." 

"  Why  so  glad  at  the  new  falcon's  prowess  ?  "  asked 
Prince  Christian,  as  he  rode  up. 

"Yes,  Christel,  I  had  wagered  much  just  then,"  she 
said,  laughing ;  "  I  am  a  foolish  maiden."  But  Christel's 
eyes  told  her  she  was  fairer  and  more  beloved  than  any 
one  on  earth,  and  that  her  foolishness  would  be  wisdom 
in  his  thinking  for  ever. 

They  rode  home  through  the  dusk  of  the  November 
day.  Behind  them  the  sun  was  sinking  in  a  red  glory, 
but  all  the  sky  southwards  was  lit  as  with  a  rapture  of 
remembrance  of  the  passing  of  the  Sun-god.  The  mighty 
castle  loomed  like  some  fairy  palace.  Silence  brooded 
over  all,  and  from  out  the  township  in  the  valley  floated 
up  on  the  still  air  the  sound  of  those  constantly  recurring 
bells  which  regulated  the  lives  of  the  orderly  citizens. 
From  the  prayer-bell  at  break  of  dawn  calling  the  work- 
men to  rise  and  pray  ere  they  began  their  tasks,  to  the 
curfew  toll  at  nine  of  the  night,  the  chimes  proclaimed 
the  order  of  the  day.  At  eleven  of  the  morning  the  bell 
rang  out  blithely,  bidding  the  toilers  cease  their  labour 
and  refresh  their  bodies  with  food  and  drink;  again,  an 
hour  after  noon,  the  tinkling  sound  announced  that  the 
midday  rest  was  done,  and  that  work  awaited  accomplish- 
ment. At  set  of  sun  the  bell  summoned  the  children 
home  from  school  or  play,  and  told  the  peaceful  citizens 
that  the  evening  meal  was  prepared.  Then  there  came 
the  deep  toll  of  the  curfew,  bidding  law-abiding  men  to 
cover  their  lights  and  rest.  But  each  town  according  to 
its  trade,  of  course,  had  other  bells,  though  the  chief 
hours  varied  little  all  over  Germany.  Then  there  were 
bells  to  announce  events :  birth,  and  marriage,  and  death, 
fire  and  danger,  and  the  storm-bell,  and  one  which  sent 
a  shudder  even  to  stout  hearts  and  a  prayer  to  the  most 
impious  lips.  This  was  the  "  Arinesiinderglocke,"  the 
"  poor  sinner's  bell,"  which  was  rung  when  a  soul  was  sent 
to  the  eternal  Tribunal  by  the  hands  of  more  righteous 
or  more  fortunate  men.  Death  was  the  penalty  for  most 


QUIET  DAYS  59 

offences  in  those  days,  and  hardly  a  week  would  pass 
without  the  dread  ringing  of  the  "  poor  sinner's  bell." 

As  Elizabeth  Stuart  rode  homewards  through  the 
crepuscule  the  evening  chimes  were  ringing  in  the  city. 

"  Hasten,  Christel,"  she  said,  "  we  shall  be  late;  already 
madame  ma  mere  is  assuring  herself  that  I  shall  not  be 
in  time  for  supper.  Alas!  it  seems  to  me  that  an  we 
supped  at  midnight  I  should  be  there  at  one  of  the 
clock  !  "  she  laughed. 

"  It  is  time  your  Highness  were  returned,"  said  Schom- 
berg,  riding  up. 

"  Time,  monsieur?  Time  and  I  fell  out  long  ago.  I 
am  always  pursuing  the  grim  monster.  Come,  then !  " 
she  cried  lightly.  She  urged  her  horse  forward  and  gal- 
loped up  the  road  to  the  first  draw-gate  of  the  castle. 

"  Madame,  for  the  dear  God's  sake  have  a  care  ! "  called 
Schomberg.  "  Madame,  it  is  slippery  beneath  the  arch- 
way of  the  inner  bridge  ! "  But  she  paid  no  heed,  and 
galloped  as  one  pursued  over  the  drawbridge  and  into  the 
courtyard. 

"Care  and  Time  are  mighty  troublesome  tyrants,  Schom- 
berg ! "  she  cried,  as  she  dismounted  at  the  steps  of  the 
Friedrich's  Bau,  where  she  still  lodged. 

"  Her  Highness  Juliane  begs  to  wait  on  your  Highness 
before  supper,  madame,"  said  Sadillo,  her  major-domo, 
as  she  mounted  the  steps.  Elizabeth  shrugged  her  shoul- 
ders impatiently. 

"  I  have  outraced  Time  for  once,  and  now  here  is  Care 
in  the  person  of  Madame  Mere  coming  to  hinder  me  from 
conquering  Time  and  getting  to  supper  !  "  she  whispered 
to  Mistress  Anne  as  she  hurried  to  her  apartments  on 
the  first  floor.  Ere  her  Highness  was  dressed  her  page 
announced  that  the  Countess  Juliane  was  in  the  audience- 
chamber. 

"  Quick  !  give  me  my  brocaded  bedgown  !  I  cannot  let 
Madame  Mere  wait  till  I  put  on  all  these  fallals,"  Eliza- 
beth said,  as  one  tiring- woman  offered  her  the  white  satin 
underskirt,  another  stood  ready  with  the  stiff  wheel-like 
fardingale  of  light-blue  flowered  taffeta,and  a  third  held  out 


60  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

the  short-waisted  Dutch  bodice  of  blue  satin,  while  another 
busied  herself  with  the  lace  rebatoe  which  would  rise 
like  a  filmy  half-frame  behind  the  wearer's  head.  But, 
for  the  nonce,  Elizabeth  would  have  none  of  these ;  for  to 
don  such  garments,  to  tie  the  many  little  ribbons  down 
the  front  of  the  bodice,  to  adjust  the  rich  overskirt  and 
the  fardingale,  and  fasten  with  jewelled  ornaments  on  each 
shoulder  the  finish  of  the  rebatoe — all  this  needed  many 
minutes'  careful  attention  !  So,  quick !  her  Highness's  bed- 
gown, a  mantle  of  delicate  brocade  with  large  falling 
sleeves  and  soft  laces  and  many  bunches  of  ribbon.  The 
women  brought  this  garment,  and  Elizabeth  Stuart  was 
ready  to  receive  the  Electress  Juliane. 

"  I  crave  forgiveness,  madame  ma  mere,"  her  Highness 
said  as  she  entered  the  audience-chamber. 

"  Perchance  my  visit  at  this  hour  is  irksome,  madame 
ma  fille,"  Juliane  responded  coldly,  "  but  I  have  a  matter 
of  import  to  discuss."  She  paused. 

"  Madame,  your  visit  is  always  welcome,  yet  I  returned 
a  little  late  from  the  chase  to-day,  and  I  feared  not  to  be 
in  time  for  supper,"  Elizabeth  answered. 

A  smile  passed  over  Juliane's  lips.  "  A  little  late,  ma 
fille — hum — hum — that  were  of  a  truth  unusual !  Nay, 
I  would  not  chide.  Ah  !  sweet  child,  let  me  speak  as  a 
mother.  I  have  only  your  wellbeing  at  heart."  Again  she 
hesitated.  A  gulf  of  years  lay  between  her  and  Elizabeth, 
that  deep  ravine  across  which  the  old  judge  the  young 
timidly ;  and  the  young,  clear-sighted  and  intolerant,  con- 
demn the  counsels  of  the  old.  Sympathy  may  throw  a 
bridge  across  this  ravine,  but  it  is  a  bridge  which  the  heavy 
foot  of  disapproval  breaks  down  and  destroys  instantly. 

"  I  have  only  your  wellbeing  at  heart,  ma  fille,"  she 
repeated  tremulously.  "Believe  me,  you  are  unwise  in 
exerting  yourself  at  the  chase  as  you  do — it  is  not  safe  for 
you,  and  for  the  dear  burden  you  carry  it  is  full  of  risk." 

"  But,  madame,  I  have  told  you  before  that  I  feel  better 
when  I  ride  out,"  cried  Elizabeth  impatiently ;  "  and  if  it 
suits  my  health,  sure  it  must  be  good  for  my  child." 

"  Nay,  it  is  dangerous  for  both  so  near  the  birth.    I  have 


QUIET  DAYS  61 

spoken  before ;  but,  as  your  Highness  paid  no  heed  to  my 
warnings,  I  wrote  to  his  Majesty  at  Whitehall.  To-day  I 
have  received  a  letter  out  of  England."  She  drew  a  folded 
paper  from  her  girdle.  "  Your  royal  father  desires  me  to 
enforce  our  wishes." 

"  Madame  ma  mere,  it  is  past  a  laughing  matter  ! "  cried 
Elizabeth.  "  I  am  no  longer  a  child  to  be  chidden  thus,  and 
to  have  my  every  action  reported  to  his  Majesty !  He 
is  no  midwife,  and  cannot  know  what  is  best  for  me!" 

"  This  is  unseemly,  madame,"  said  Juliane  sharply.  "  If 
you  will  not  listen  to  the  wise  reasoning  of  his  Majesty, 
you  must  indeed  give  credence  to  my  experience.  In  Ger- 
many it  is  the  custom  to  defer  to  the  husband's  mother  in 
such  matters." 

"  In  Germany,  madame  ma  mere,  no  doubt !  But  I  am 
English,  and  we  have  other  customs  hi  our  land,"  Elizabeth 
answered  haughtily. 

"  Pretty  habits,  of  a  truth,  madame !  Habits  of  a 
daughter  taking  precedence  of  her  spouse's  mother ! " 
cried  Juliane.  In  a  woman's  dispute  the  grievance  in 
discussion  calls  in  the  aid  of  many  lurking  antagonisms ; 
argument  opens  the  door  of  anger  and  out  rush  jealousy, 
forgotten  slights,  and  half-a-dozen  old  quarrels,  and  in  this 
discordant  crowd  the  original  cause  of  variance  is  lost. 

"  We  must  be  served  first,  not  only  at  banquets,  but 
when  there  are  no  guests ! "  the  old  Electress  continued 
shrilly.  "  We  disdain  all  but  dishes  prepared  by  our 
English  kitchen -master !  We  harken  not  to  good  Master 
Scultetus  in  his  excellent  discourses,  we  must  have  an 
English  divine  to  read  us  Lutheran  doctrine ! "  The 
Electress  Juliane  paused  for  breath. 

"  Is  it  of  this  you  would  speak,  madame,  or  of  my  other 
misdoings  ?  "  quoth  her  Highness. 

"  I  came  to  speak  of  your  father's  advice,"  Juliane 
said  sadly,  and  passed  her  hand  over  her  eyes  where  the 
tears  had  sprung.  Elizabeth  saw  this,  and  her  heart 
grew  tender. 

"  Ah  !  Madame  ma  mere,  you  weep  ?  Dear  madame, 
I  am  a  wayward  being — forgive  me  !  I  care  no  jot  for 


62  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

precedence — it  is  only  according  to  my  father's  orders. 
But  the  chase,  madame — it  does  not  harm  me — I 
cannot  sit  in  a  shut  room  and  mope  like  a  German 
woman,"  she  cried. 

"  Ma  fille,  you  need  not  sit  in  a  closed  room,  and  Ger- 
man women  do  not  mope  more  than  others,"  said  Juliane ; 
"  but  you  must  consider  your  health  at  this  time." 

"  I  do  consider  my  health,  madame,  in  my  own  way  ; 
but  my  way  is  not  your  way,"  Elizabeth  answered. 

"  No,  our  ways  divide,  your  Highness,  so  greatly  that  I 
shall  retire  to  my  castle  of  Frankenthal  as  soon  as  the 
preparations  for  my  reception  are  completed.  But  it  is 
my  duty  to  warn  you  of  your  unwisdom,  and  that  I  shall 
do  always,"  the  Electress-Dowager  said  gravely. 

"  I  am  sorry,  madame,  that  you  should  leave  us,"  her 
Highness  replied  ;  "  yet  perchance  it  is  better  so." 

"  The  old  shall  make  way  for  the  young,  the  mother 
shall  be  banished  by  the  wife.  It  is  ever  thus,"  said 
Juliane  bitterly ;  "  you  will  know  the  pain  of  it  some  day 
yourself,  ma  fille.  It  is  the  price  of  a  mother's  joy.  But 
it  is  hard  and  bitter  to  give  up  our  child  to  another  woman 
— our  child — for  to  a  mother  even  the  grown  man  is  a 
child,  always  the  little  creature  she  has  loved  and  tended." 
Juliane  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  wept. 

"Ma  mere,  ma  mere — forgive  me — yes,  you  are  right!" 
cried  Elizabeth,  flinging  her  arms  round  the  old  Electress. 
"  Ma  mere,  listen  !  I  will  not  go  a-riding  again  ;  I  will  do  all 
you  say.  Madame,  we  both  love  Friedrich.  Ma  mere,  I 
love  you  too."  The  passionate  generosity  of  her  nature  was 
aroused,  and  she  pleaded  with  Juliane  like  a  penitent  child. 

"  Ma  fille,  I  thank  you,"  said  the  older  woman,  drying 
her  eyes.  "  You  are  a  brave  and  generous  heart;  God  keep 
you  so  all  the  days  of  your  life.  Yes,  I  will  go  to  Fran- 
kenthal, for  the  young  must  consort  with  the  young ;  and," 
she  smiled  through  the  tears  which  welled  up  anew,  "  and 
the  young  must  e'en  make  the  mistakes  of  youth,  must  buy 
experience  with  pain." 

"  As  you  did,  too,  madame  ma  mere  ? "  said  Elizabeth, 
with  a  little  laugh. 


QUIET  DAYS  63 

"  As  I  did  too,  ma  fille,"  replied  Juliane  gently. 

So  it  fell  out  that  Elizabeth  Stuart  went  no  more  a-hunt- 
ing  that  autumn.  She  occupied  herself  with  watching  the 
building  of  the  new  portion  of  Heidelberg  Castle,  which 
was  to  be  her  future  abode,  and  with  the  choosing  of  the 
designs  for  the  decorations  of  the  private  playhouse  which 
Friedrich  caused  to  be  constructed  on  the  spacious  roof  of 
the  Dicke  Thurm.  Here  in  former  ages  had  stood  gigantic 
slings  ready  to  hurl  stones  on  an  approaching  enemy.  Here, 
too,  Friedrich  IV.  had  placed  heavy  cannon.  But  in  1613 
war  and  siege  seemed  to  be  far  off  eventualities  to  Fried- 
rich  V.,  and  he  laboured  but  to  give  entertainment  to  his 
well-beloved  lady.  Master  Solomon  De  Caus,  artist,  archi- 
tect, engineer,  was  summoned  from  France  to  replan  the 
gardens,  and  Elizabeth  Stuart  passed  many  hours  poring 
over  drawings  and  designs,  or  wandering  about  the  gardens 
with  the  enthusiastic  Frenchman,  who  vowed  that  he  would 
make  of  Heidelberg  a  very  paradise.  "  Here  should  arise 
a  flowering  parterre  ! " 

"  Where  ? "  cried  her  Highness,  for  De  Caus  pointed  at 
space  over  a  deep  fall  of  ground. 

"  Here,  your  Highness,  it  shall  arise,  builded  with  rich 
earth  a  hundred  feet  up  till " — he  made  a  sweeping  gesture 
in  the  air — "  till  here  on  a  level  with  us  shall  lie  an  en- 
chanted garden ! " 

There  were  plans  for  fountains,  wondrous  devices  where 
the  water  was  tortured  to  a  dozen  shapes — jetted  up,  flung 
back,  whirled  round ;  there  were  drawings  of  a  hundred 
statues;  of  grottoes  where  mechanical  instruments  dis- 
coursed fair  melodies,  instruments  set  to  their  labours  by 
waterworks,  and  others  by  the  air  of  heaven.  There  was 
to  be  a  bathing  grotto :  "  Ici  les  dames  seront  les  nymphes, 
Altesse,  je  n'en  pourrais  dessiner  d'aussi  belles  ! " 

"When  can  these  marvels  be  ready,  Monsieur  De  Caus?" 
asked  her  Highness,  and  they  spoke  of  all  to  do  with  the 
plan — except  the  cost  of  it.  Elizabeth  would  have  had 
the  work  to  begin  forthwith,  but  De  Caus  told  her  it  could 
not  be  till  after  the  frost  and  snow  had  been  to  Heidelberg 
and  gone  again.  Now  he  could  only  plan,  mark  off  men- 


64  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

tally,and  arrange  whence  should  be  procured  the  mountains 
of  earth  required  for  raising  levels.  This  started  them  on 
another  dream :  they  would  fashion  the  rough  hill-land, 
whence  they  would  take  this  earth,  into  a  walk  for  her 
Highness ;  it  should  become  a  gentle  grassy  slope,  an 
orchard  as  she  had  known  in  England. 

In  the  long  hours  after  the  evening  meal  there  was  no 
dancing  now;  for  her  Highness's  condition  did  not  allow  of 
it,  albeit  the  fardingale  and  the  voluminous  skirts  did  their 
duty  right  discreetly,  and  hid  effectually  even  the  contour 
of  advanced  pregnancy.  This  mad  fashion  of  the  fardin- 
gale came  out  of  Spain,  and  had  been  invented,  so  scandal 
said,  to  hide  the  condition  of  a  princess  which  should  not 
have  needed  hiding.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  fardingale,  a 
curse  to  ladies  on  other  occasions,  was  a  convenient  and 
discreet  friend  during  pregnancy.  It  suited  her  High- 
ness's  humour  sometimes  to  take  advantage  of  this,  and 
pretend  surprise  at  the  allusions  of  well-wishers ;  and  she 
steadily  refused  to  receive  the  embassies  of  congratulation 
which  came  from  all  parts  of  Europe.  It  was  no  whim, 
she  averred,  but  it  brought  mischance  to  congratulate 
before  an  event.  This  she  set  forth  to  her  Highness 
Juliane  ere  she  bid  her  farewell.  The  old  Electress  had 
remained  steadfast  in  her  resolution,  and  had  journeyed 
to  her  dower-house  at  Frankenthal.  She  had  departed 
in  peace,  though  she  had  warned  Friedrich  and  Elizabeth 
of  the  enormous  expenditure  they  would  incur  if  they 
sanctioned  all  De  Caus'  plans.  There  had  been  sharp 
words  between  mother  and  son,  and  unpleasant  allusions 
on  his  part  to  the  enormous  list  of  items  purchased  at  the 
yearly  Frankfurt  Fair  by  his  father,  Friedrich  IV.  Yet  these 
quarrels  had  vanished  at  the  farewell  hour,  as  quarrels  do, 
and  the  Countess  Juliane  had  gone  in  peace. 

From  England  came  the  news  that  the  divorce  of  my 
Lady  of  Essex  had  prospered,  news,  too,  of  her  betrothal 
to  my  Lord  of  Rochester,  and  of  his  rise  in  rank  to  the 
Earldom  of  Somerset ;  also  mention  of  Sir  Thomas  Over- 
bury's  death  in  the  Tower.  Beyond  that  there  was  talk 
of  King  James's  empty  treasury,  of  how  the  Commons  re- 


QUIET  DAYS  65 

fused  to  vote  supplies,  for  though  England  was  ruled  by 
his  Majesty,  still,  as  a  formality,  the  Parliament  had  to  vote 
him  monies — a  mere  formality  destined  to  become  a  harsh 
and  binding  law.  How  little  they  dreamed  what  part  the 
Commons  would  play  in  a  few  years'  time  !  Christmas 
was  coming  in  peace  this  year  of  1613,  and  at  Heidelberg 
there  reigned  calm  and  prosperity. 

Shortly  before  Christmas  it  was  announced  that  an 
embassy  would  journey  from  France  to  congratulate 
his  Highness  Palatine — and  incidentally  her  Highness — 
on  the  prospect  of  an  heir. 

"  I  will  not  receive  them  ! "  cried  Elizabeth  ;  "  I  hate 
this  talk  before  the  child  is  there." 

"  It  is  only  a  ceremony,  dear  heart,"  explained 
Friedrich. 

"  I  will  not,  and  I  will  not ! "  said  her  Highness, 
and  abode  by  it. 

They  arrived,  the  noble  French  gentlemen,  bringing 
gifts  from  the  Queen-mother:  a  chased  golden  goblet, 
pearls  of  price,  a  baby's  robe  of  filmy  laces,  embroidered 
cushions  and  coverlets,  a  tiny  cap  for  baby's  head.  Sure, 
dainty  things  to  welcome  the  little  life,  things  to  bring 
a  tear  of  tenderness  to  a  woman's  eye.  Mistress  Anne 
Dudley,  gentle  soul,  was  shown  the  presents,  and  sighed 
and  touched  the  little  garments  with  a  soft  hand.  But 
her  Highness,  when  she  was  told,  flung  off  into  one  of 
her  wayward  moods.  She  would  not  see  the  ambassadors. 
She  "would  not,  and  she  would  not,"  as  she  said.  Friedrich 
explained  ;  he  spoke  of  women's  whims — "  At  such  a  time, 
my  lords,  I  would  not  gainsay  her  Highness." 

The  courtiers  whispered,  the  men  ridiculed  and  dis- 
approved ;  their  ladies,  jealous  of  the  consideration  shown 
to  a  woman's  whim — or  sensibility — grumbled  that  this 
was  no  German  way  of  treating  a  wife,  and  that  there  must 
be  something  undutiful,  probably  unmoral,  in  a  woman 
who  could  inspire  such  homage  after  marriage.  "  Thou 
dear  Heaven  ! "  they  cried,  "  we  were  not  wont  to  be  used 
thus ! "  And  they  cast  angry  looks  at  their  autocratic 
lords. 


66  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

The  ambassadors  were  aghast  at  their  reception,  and 
there  was  a  time  of  strained  relations  at  Heidelberg.  Her 
Highness  was  served  in  her  own  apartments ;  she  did  not 
attend  the  banquets.  Then  at  the  eleventh  hour  she 
relented — a  trifle.  She  would  receive  the  ambassadors  in 
private  audience. 

They  were  ushered  up,  and  were  met  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs  by  Count  Schomberg  and  her  Highness's  own  gentle- 
men. They  passed  into  the  antehall  and  stood  waiting 
before  the  bright  log-fire  on  the  hearth.  Then  the  door 
was  flung  open,  and  her  Highness's  page,  young  Hans 
von  Steinberg,  announced  that  her  Highness  awaited  the 
honour  of  welcoming  France's  embassy.  The  gentlemen 
passed  through  Mistress  Anne's  apartment  and  entered 
the  audience  chamber.  Elizabeth  Stuart  stood  before 
them  in  sweeping  robes  of  ivory  satin,  huge  fardingale 
and  mighty  ruff.  Her  breast  was  ablaze  with  jewels,  a 
great  pearl  lay  on  her  brow,  a  pearl  which  Elizabeth 
of  England  had  sent  to  Scotland  eighteen  years  ago 
to  her  "  little  gossip  "  when  the  said  "  little  gossip  " 
was  made  a  member  of  God's  church,  and  given  the 
name  of  Elizabeth.  Her  Highness  stood  very  straight, 
one  hand  resting  on  the  back  of  a  carven  chair,  the  other 
hand  playing  with  the  glittering  chain  of  rubies  which 
was  King  James's  gift  to  "  Bess,  Goody  Palsgrave,"  as  his 
Majesty  called  her.  Monsieur  de  Sainte  Catherine,  the 
ambassador,  bowed  deeply ;  her  Highness  responded  with 
a  profound  obeisance. 

"  Altesse,  it  is  indeed  a  joy  and  honour  to  be  received," 
he  began. 

"  Mais,  Monsieur  1'Ambassadeur !  it  is  no  less  an  honour 
for  me  to  welcome  the  envoy  of  her  Majesty  of  France  ! 
It  has  irked  me  that  a  slight  indisposition  has  deprived 
me  of  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  ere  this." 

"  Madame,  my  royal  mistress,  sa  Majeste*  tres  ve'nere'e, 
has  made  bold  to  send  you  a  few  small  gifts."  He  waved 
a  secretary  forward  who  bore  an  emblazoned  casket. 
"  An  it  please  you  to  view  them,  madame  ?  " 

The  pearls  were  shown,  and  she  praised  them ;  then 


QUIET  DAYS  67 

the  golden  goblet,  and  then  the  little  garments  of  filmy 
laces. 

"  I  charge  you,  Monsieur  1'Ambassadeur,  to  give  my 
humble  thanks  to  her  Majesty.  I  am  truly  grateful, 
monsieur,"  she  said,  and  offered  him  her  hand  to  kiss.  He 
bent  over  it. 

"  Madame  1'Electrice,  her  Majesty  sends  you  right  good 
wishes,  and  greetings  to  the  little  Palsgrave,  who  shall  be 
a  better  gift  to  a  mother's  heart  than  pearls  and  gold," 
he  said. 

"  In  good  faith,  monsieur,  as  all  the  world  seems 
determined  to  think  me  enceinte,  I  shall  soon  believe  it 
myself,"  she  answered,  and  dismissed  the  astonished 
ambassador  with  one  of  her  puzzling  smiles. 

Five  days  afterwards  the  bells  of  Heidelberg  rang  out 
peal  after  peal,  and  the  cannon  thundered  salutes  to  the 
new  little  Prince  Palatine.  Elizabeth  Stuart,  lying  in  the 
great  bed  of  her  chamber  in  the  Friedrich's  Bau,  held  in 
her  arms  a  little  bundle  of  laces  and  ribbons,  out  of  which 
peeped  the  tiny  red  face  of  the  new-born.  There  was 
peace  and  rest  in  that  sumptuous  apartment ;  the  wood 
fire  flared  and  crackled  on  the  hearth,  and  Mistress  Anne 
Dudley  hurried  about  noiselessly,  bringing  comfortable, 
warm  possets  for  the  young  mother,  adjusting  a  pillow, 
smoothing  a  rebellious  curl  from  her  Highness's  brow. 

Suddenly  Elizabeth  broke  out  in  laughter. 

"  Hush,  your  Highness,  rest ! — be  calm  !  Quick,  her 
Highness's  essence  flagon  !  Quick  !  Her  Highness  has  a 
nervous  fit !  "  cried  the  attendants. 

"  Nay,  but — nay,  but — I  am  right  well.  I  think  on 
Monsieur  de  Sainte  Catherine,  who  will  have  told  them  in 
France  that  I  was  not  enceinte.  Think,  oh  Anne  !  think 
of  him  when  he  hears  that  this  little  sweeting  came  to 
me  so  soon !  " 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  FIRST  MESH  IS  SPUN 

THE  "  little  sweeting,"  as  Elizabeth  called  the  baby 
Pfalzgraf,  was  christened  with  much  pomp,  and 
received  the  names  of  Henry  Friedrich — Henry  in 
remembrance  of  her  Highness's  well  -  beloved  brother, 
whose  death  had  cast  so  deep  a  gloom  on  her  first  days 
of  happiness  as  the  affianced  bride  of  Friedrich  of  the 
Palatinate.  For  the  baptism  a  bevy  of  princes  repaired  to 
Heidelberg,  and  again  there  were  magnificent  festivities, 
joustings,  and  banquets.  In  England  the  news  of  the 
birth  was  received  with  acclamation,  and  a  bill  was 
passed  by  Parliament  conferring  the  privileges  of  an 
English  subject  upon  the  little  Palsgrave,  and  proclaim- 
ing him  to  be  the  rightful  heir  to  the  throne  of  England, 
after  his  mother.  Prince  Charles  of  England  was  a  weak 
and  ailing  youth,  and,  even  if  he  lived  to  be  king,  none 
expected  him  to  be  capable  of  marriage  and  fatherhood ; 
thus  her  Highness  Palatine  was  regarded  as  the  future 
queen  of  Great  Britain.  The  Puritans  in  especial 
rejoiced,  and  welcomed  the  infant  Henry  Friedrich  as 
heir-presumptive  to  the  throne.  The  expressions  of  their 
joy,  devotion,  and  homage  were  so  ostentatious  that  King 
James,  always  jealous  and  suspicious,  was  reported  to  be 
in  a  chronic  condition  of  wrath ;  and  though  he  scraped 
a  decent  sum  of  money  from  his  ill-furnished  treasury  as 
a  gift  to  the  infant  prince,  still  it  was  known  that  he  at 
least  shared  but  moderately  in  the  universal  satisfaction 
of  England.  It  is  notoriously  unpleasant  to  monarchs  to 
hear  talk  on  the  merits  of  their  successors,  and  King 
James  was  not  singular  in  this ;  the  Emperor  Matthias 
was  experiencing  the  same  discomfort  at  this  time.  While 
the  Protestant  communities  rejoiced  at  the  birth  of  an  heir 


68 


THE  FIRST  MESH  IS  SPUN  69 

to  their  champions,  the  Catholic  world  was  distraught  with 
anxiety  as  to  who  should  be  the  future  emperor  of  the 
Holy  Roman  Empire,  and  the  leader  of  the  sacred  cause. 
It  was  reckoned  that  Matthias  had  few  years  to  live,  and  all 
deemed  it  unlikely  that  he  would  beget  an  heir,  although 
he  had  but  recently  espoused  Anne  of  Styria,  daughter  of 
the  Archduke  Ferdinand,  regent  of  Tyrol,  who  by  his 
first  marriage  had  set  the  world  agog  by  espousing  Philip- 
pine Welser,  daughter  of  an  Augsburg  patrician,  no  fitting 
mate  for  an  Austrian  Archduke,  but  of  romantic  fame 
for  this  same  reason.  The  Emperor  Matthias's  brothers, 
Maximilian  and  Albrecht,  though  they  desired  to  secure 
the  imperial  crown  for  the  Catholic  cause,  shunned  for 
themselves  the  mighty  task  of  empire  and  supported  the 
claim  of  Ferdinand  of  Styria,  the  Empress  Anne's  brother. 
This  prince's  pretensions  were  based  on  his  descent  from 
the  Emperor  Maximilian's  brother,  Philippine  Welser's 
Duke  Ferdinand  of  Tyrol.  Now  Philip  III.  of  Spain 
stepped  in  and  claimed  the  better  right  by  reason  of  his 
direct  descent  from  the  Emperor  Maximilian  through  his 
daughter.  But  the  claim  was  repudiated  immediately — 
firstly,  according  to  the  Salic  law  which  forbade  the  female 
succession ;  and  secondly,  Queen  Anne  of  Spain  had,  upon 
her  marriage  with  Philip  II.,  formally  renounced  her  rights 
both  for  herself  and  her  issue.  Here  the  Protestant  elec- 
tors and  even  their  Catholic  compeers  protested  that  the 
Hapsburgs  possessed  no  hereditary  imperial  rights,  that 
they  were  emperors  by  election  and  kings  of  Bohemia 
and  Hungary  by  acceptance.  The  Bohemians  and  Hun- 
garians claimed  their  ancient  privilege  of  election,  and  con- 
tended that  the  wording  in  the  patent  was  "accepted  by  the 
Bohemians,"  and  that  they  had  notoriouslyalways  possessed, 
and  practised,  the  right  of  freely  electing  their  kings. 

To  Philip  of  Spain's  claim  Matthias's  brother,  Archduke 
Maximilian,  responded,  that  though  he  was  willing  to  re- 
nounce his  indisputable  rights  in  favour  of  Ferdinand  of 
Styria,  whom  he  considered  a  young  and  strong  prince,more 
fitted  to  govern  an  empire  than  such  frail  greybeards  as 
himself  andhis  brother  Albrecht,  still  he  strenuously  refused 


70  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

to  countenance  the  Spaniard's  pretension,  based  as  it  was  on 
descent  in  the  female  line  and  even  thus  solemnly  renounced 
by  the  female  link  in  the  chain.  Philip  answered  that  his 
mother  had  resigned  her  rights  in  favour  of  her  brothers 
and  the  heirs  of  their  bodies,  and  that  she  would  never 
have  given  over  her  heritage  to  other  claimants.  Thus 
he  averred  that  the  renunciation  was  invalid,  and  his  right 
was  stronger  than  that  of  Ferdinand  of  Styria.  Mean- 
while the  Emperor  Matthias  wavered  and  procrastinated, 
played  with  the  collection  of  curios,  carven  ivories,  and 
rare  books  bequeathed  to  him  by  his  ill-used  brother  the 
Emperor  Antiquary,  Rudolf  II. ;  dallied  with  his  young 
and  handsome,  if  portly,  wife  Anne;  and  though  he  seemed 
well  disposed  to  the  candidature  of  his  brother-in-law, 
Ferdinand  of  Styria,  he  refused  to  settle  anything  defi- 
nitely concerning  the  succession.  The  favourite,  Bishop 
Klesl,  tenacious  of  his  power,  and  perfectly  aware  that  it 
would  wane  when  the  succession  question  was  decided  and 
the  intrigues  of  Europe  were  directed  towards  the  newly 
risen  sun  of  an  acknowledged  future  emperor,  encouraged 
Matthias  in  his  inertia.  This  was  the  situation  in  the 
winter  of  1613-14.  Now  there  sprang  up  another  party 
which  pointed  at  Friedrich  of  the  Palatinate  as  a  possible 
future  emperor,  a  Protestant  monarch  backed  by  such 
great  powers  as  an  English  father-in-law,  a  Danish  uncle, 
King  Christian,  and  a  Dutch  uncle,  Prince  Maurice  of 
Orange.  Who  could  doubt  that  such  champions  of  Pro- 
testantism would  risk  all  to  secure  an  imperial  crown  to 
their  close  kinsman,  who  would  form  an  unassailable 
Protestant  empire  ? 

All  these  conjectures  and  intrigues  were  confounded 
early  in  1615  by  the  news  that  the  Empress  Anne  was 
enceinte,  and  that  Matthias  therefore  refused  to  sanction 
further  negotiations  concerning  the  succession.  He  an- 
nounced proudly  that  his  heir  would  be  king  of  Bohemia 
and  Hungary,  and  that  after  his  own  death  the  empire 
would  be  governed  by  a  regent  until  such  time  as  the 
Hapsburg  scion  should  be  grown  to  man's  estate  and 
fitted  to  rule  as  emperor.  Even  the  most  sanguine  of 


THE  FIRST  MESH  IS  SPUN  71 

the  Catholic  princes  were  appalled  at  the  prospect  of  a 
regency,  but  Matthias  enquired  angrily  why  his  dear  kins- 
men and  adherents  persisted  in  allotting  him  so  short  a 
span  of  life ;  he  was  in  excellent  health,  and  the  happi- 
ness of  knowing  he  would  soon  be  a  father  had  encouraged 
him  to  hope  for  long  years  of  earthly  joy. 

At  Heidelberg  the  news  was  received  with  mingled  feel- 
ings :  Prince  Friedrich,  who  had  attained  his  majority  in 
the  August  of  1614,  saw  a  future  menace  to  Protestant- 
ism in  the  unborn  Hapsburg  infant ;  Scultetus  likewise  in 
Biblical  phrases  proclaimed  the  Empress's  condition  to  be 
the  accursed  flourishing  of  the  evil  tree  of  the  ungodly ; 
Elizabeth  Stuart,  too  occupied  with  her  domestic  life  to 
care  overmuch  for  political  complications,  averred  that  she 
rejoiced  for  the  portly  Empress.  The  Electress  Juliane, 
sojourning  for  a  few  days  at  Heidelberg,  was  happy  to  hear 
of  the  circumstance,  for  she  had  feared  and  mistrusted  the 
ambition  which  she  had  believed  to  be  growing  in  her  son's 
heart ;  she  had  trembled  at  the  thought  of  Friedrich  be- 
coming involved  in  the  vortex  of  intrigue  which  surrounded 
the  throne  of  Bohemia  and  the  succession  to  the  imperial 
purple. 

"  Believe  me,  madame  ma  fille,"  she  said  to  Elizabeth, 
"  you  have  peace  and  content  here  in  Heidelberg.  Ambi- 
tion is  a  hard  and  cruel  task-mistress,  whose  unrelenting 
grasp  crushes  joy  from  the  human  heart.  I  have  ever 
thought  that  ambition  is  one  of  the  fallen  angels,  who 
has  been  noble  zeal  in  Paradise,  and  is  an  evil  spirit  of 
unrest  on  earth,  cursed  by  God." 

"  Faint  heart !  ma  mere,"  returned  Elizabeth,  "  who 
would  not  be  an  emperor  an  he  had  the  courage  ? " 

"  Say  not  so,  sweet  child,  you  have  content — do  not 
grasp  at  other  things,"  the  old  Electress  said  gravely. 

"  Ma  foi,  madame,  if  I  could  found  an  empire  for  my 
son  I  would  e'en  risk  my  life  ! "  her  Highness  answered, 
laughing. 

But  Elizabeth  was  greatly  occupied  at  home,  and 
gave  scant  thought  to  other  matters.  Prince  Friedrich 
had  returned  with  broken  health  from  the  assembly 


72  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

of  Princes  of  the  Union  at  Heilbronn.  Elizabeth  had 
seen  him  ride  forth  in  the  pride  of  his  youth  and  strength, 
and  three  weeks  afterwards  he  had  returned  with  pallid 
cheeks  and  languid  gait,  and  had  told  her  that  he  had 
been  sick  unto  death  at  Heilbronn.  To  her  sharp  ques- 
tion as  to  why  she  had  been  left  in  ignorance  of  his 
danger,  he  had  replied  that  he  would  not  have  her 
troubled.  She  had  been  both  bitterly  angered  at  his 
silence  and  deeply  touched  at  his  loving  consideration  of 
her,  but,  womanlike,  she  had  shown  her  anger  most,  and 
Friedrich,  already  depressed  by  the  ravages  of  fever,  had 
fallen  into  a  profound  melancholy. 

Count  Schomberg's  patient  wooing  of  Mistress  Anne 
Dudley  had  been  rewarded,  and  after  a  lengthy  corre- 
spondence with  King  James  the  marriage  had  taken 
place  at  Heidelberg.  The  British  Solomon  had  opposed 
the  match  stubbornly,  and  had  worked  upon  Anne's 
father,  Sutton,  Lord  Dudley,  to  withhold  his  consent. 
There  was  no  matter  too  trivial  for  his  Majesty's  inter- 
ference, and  having  taken  a  misliking  to  Schomberg  he 
worked  against  the  marriage  as  though  it  had  been  an 
affair  of  State  importance.  He  even  complained  that 
Schomberg  and  Mistress  Anne  had  been  careless  in  their 
service  to  her  Highness,  and  adduced  as  proof  thereof 
that  Elizabeth's  jewels  were  not  properly  taken  care  of. 
Where,  for  instance,  was  this  pearl,  that  emerald  ring, 
this  jewelled  neckchain,  that  pendant  of  sapphires  ?  And 
where  was  that  beautiful  set  of  ruby  buttons  which 
Queen  Anne  had  "  heedlessly  bestowed "  on  her  High- 
ness ?  Poor  Mistress  Anne  could  account  for  all  the 
jewels  save  these  said  ruby  buttons,  but  his  Majesty 
grew  lachrymose,  and  averred  that  he  had  given  them  to 
his  beloved  spouse  years  ago  in  happy  Scotland,  and  that 
these  love  tokens  must  be  forthcoming.  Then  Elizabeth 
remembered  that  she  had  presented  these  buttons  to  a 
Mistress  Tyrell,  one  of  her  tiring-women  who  had  not 
accompanied  her  into  Germany,  and  Mistress  Tyrell  was 
arraigned  before  King  James.  Yes,  the  buttons  were 
safe  enough,  but  her  Highness  had  given  them  over  to 


THE  FIRST  MESH  IS  SPUN  73 

the  tiring-woman  in  payment  of  a  debt  of  three  hundred 
pounds  sterling  which  she  had  lent  her  Highness  to 
defray  a  little  card  account  owed  by  the  Princess  of 
scarce  seventeen  summers.  So  the  buttons  were  re- 
deemed and  paid  for  by  Elizabeth ;  we  may  be  sure  that 
King  James  kept  the  strings  of  his  purse  well  knotted. 
This  fracas  over  and  peace  restored,  Schomberg  and 
Mistress  Anne  Dudley  were  happily  married  early  in  the 
year  1615. 

De  Cans  had  commenced  his  work  in  the  Heidelberg 
gardens,  and  veritable  mountains  of  soil  were  being  moved 
from  the  rough  hill-land  behind  the  castle  to  raise  the 
level  for  terraces  and  floAvering  parterres.  The  work 
went  on  apace,  yet  Elizabeth  was  impatient. 

"  Altesse  ! "  cried  De  Caus,  "  the  good  God  himself 
laboured  six  days  to  make  the  earth  !  Can  I  make  a 
paradise  in  six  months  ? " 

"  Her  Highness  dreams  of  inagic  palaces  and  wondrous 
plaisances  which  spring  up  in  a  night,"  said  Friedrich, 
laughing. 

"  Well,  my  lord,"  retorted  her  Highness,  "  some  lovers 
have  accomplished  the  impossible  to  honour  their 
beloved !  I  charge  you  offer  me  such  a  homage ! " 
She  laughed  and  turned  away,  walking  slowly  between 
the  rose  trees  of  her  rosery  with  Mistress  Anne  Dudley. 
It  was  June,  and  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  was  full  in 
the  air.  Friedrich  stood  watching  her  Highness  as  she 
moved  away.  A  shadow  was  in  his  eyes.  "  Offer  me  such 
a  homage,"  he  repeated  musingly,  "  God  knows,  I  would 
give  her  the  world  itself  an  I  could  ! " 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  De  Caus,  "  let  us  devise  some  jest 
to  please  her  Highness.  Shall  we  build  her  a  bower  in 
a  single  night  ? "  Friedrich  turned  to  him  eagerly. 

"  Could  it  be  done,  monsieur  ?  But  remember,  sir,  it 
must  be  a  bower  that  will  stand  for  ever.  I  will  have  no 
paltry  thing  that  would  crumble  before  the  first  storm," 
he  said. 

"  Ah  !  monseigneur,  shall  it  not  be  a  symbol  of  love — 
beautiful,  fragile  ? "  cried  the  Frenchman. 


74  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  My  love  shall  last  for  ever,  sir ;  let  us  build  the 
arbour  of  stone,"  returned  Friedrich  gravely. 

"  Alack  !  these  Germans  !  "  grumbled  De  Caus  to  him- 
self as  the  Prince  walked  away,  "  heavy  dullards !  with 
their  talk  of  '  for  ever.'  Bah  !  we  say  such  things  to 
women — but  these  barbarians  mean  them  !  Well,  why 
not  ?  Let  us  devise  some  solid  homage  in  stone  to  be  a 
symbol  of  our  German  prince's  love."  He  shrugged  his 
narrow  shoulders,  and  taking  a  little  book  from  his  pocket 
began  to  draw  rapidly. 

A  few  days  afterwards  he  came  to  Friedrich.  "  Mon- 
seigneur,"  he  cried,  "  I  have  prepared  the  magic  homage 
for  her  Highness ! "  and  he  presented  the  prince  with  a 
drawing  of  a  carven  archway.  "  The  stone  is  wrought, 
and  in  a  single  night  the  gateway  can  be  set  up  !  But 
we  must  play  a  little  comedy  to  her  Highness  to-morrow 
that  she  may  think  our  magic  is  potent." 

On  the  morrow  Elizabeth,  Mistress  Anne  Dudley  (Coun- 
tess Schomberg  she  was  now),  Amalia  Solms,  and  little 
Hans  Steinberg,  the  page,  were  together  in  her  Highness's 
favourite  turret,  where,  two  years  before,  she  had  so  often 
spent  long  hours  with  my  lord  and  my  lady  of  Harring- 
ton. Before  her  Highness  was  her  embroidery  frame, 
and  Prince  Christel  sat  near  her  with  an  open  book  on 
his  knee.  He  was  reading  aloud  : 

"  But  she  scorned  him,  and  when  he  prayed  her  bestow 
on  him  a  rose  she  had  gathered,  she  mocked  him,  flung 
him  a  golden  thread  from  her  broidery,  and  told  him  to 
make  a  lute-string  thereof  an  he  could,  for  it  was  his 
calling  to  tweak  a  minstrel's  lyre  but  not  to  woo  damsels 
of  high  degree.  Then  did  Lowfried  the  lover  cut  deeply 
into  his  breast,  and  laid  the  golden  thread  close  to  his 
heart,  and  vowed  he  would  go  out  into  the  world  and  win 
advancement  by  reason  of  splendid  deeds.  And  so  he  did, 
and  returned  to  the  castle  proudly,  having  been  knighted 
by  the  king's  own  sword.  And  he  made  a  song  telling 
of  his  prowess  and  his  undying  love,  and  this  he  sang  to 
the  Lady  Angliona,  but  she  answered  that  he  must  prove 
his  faithful  love  to  her.  Then  he  told  her  that  the 


THE  FIRST  MESH  IS  SPUN  75 

golden  thread  still  lay  upon  his  heart,  but  she  cried  out 
that  he  must  show  it  to  her.  Then  he  said  that  it  was 
deep  embedded  in  his  flesh ;  but  she  doubted  him.  So 
he  drew  his  sword,  and  cutting  open  the  old  wound  he 
drew  forth  the  golden  thread.  And  lo  !  it  was  shining 
and  untarnished  as  on  the  day  she  had  flung  it  to  him 
in  scorn.  And  the  Lady  Angliona  was  conquered  by 
his  love,  and  laid  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders,  and 
stooping,  kissed  his  heart.  And  Lowfried  the  lover  praised 
God,  and  gave  thanks  that,  by  the  glory  of  true  love, 
of  ardent  service,  and  patient  suffering,  so  fair  a  guerdon 
had  fallen  to  his  lot  as  this  gift  of  the  Lady  Angliona's 
love." 

Friedrich  and  De  Caus,  warned  by  a  gesture  of  her 
Highness's  hand,  had  paused  to  listen.  When  the  tale 
ended,  silence  fell  on  the  hearers,  for  Christel's  voice  and 
the  quaint  wording  of  the  ancient  German  legend  seemed 
a  melodious  poem  of  the  olden  time.  After  a  moment 
Friedrich  plucked  a  yellow  silken  skein  from  her  High- 
ness's  embroidery  frame,  and  laughing  held  it  out  to 
Christel. 

"  See,  cousin,"  he  said,  "  there  are  still  golden  threads 
in  the  world  even  an  there  be  no  heroic  knights."  Christel 
snatched  the  skein  from  him  and  hid  it  in  his  doublet. 

"  When  you  reclaim  it,  madame,  you  will  find  it  on  my 
heart ! "  he  cried  merrily. 

"  Silly  children,"  Elizabeth  said,  laughing.  "  But  what 
would  you,  my  lord  ?  Methinks  you  and  Monsieur  De 
Caus  came  to  me  on  some  urgent  embassy,  to  judge  by 
your  serious  looks." 

"  Altesse,"  said  De  Caus,  "  enchanters  have  been  at  work 
in  your  garden  during  the  night." 

"  How  now  ?  Enchanters — what  has  occurred  ? "  she 
cried,  and  rose  hastily.  Prince  Friedrich  took  her  hand 
and  led  her  away  in  mock  solemnity.  They  passed 
through  the  courtyard  and  over  the  inner  drawbridge, 
avoiding  the  wilderness  of  boards,  plankings,  mortar- 
heaps,  and  scaffolding  with  which  the  builders  at  work  on 
the  new  wing  of  the  castle  had  encumbered  the  ground. 


76  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Up  the  road  beneath  the  beech  trees  his  Highness  led  the 
Lady  Elizabeth,  then  turned  into  the  gardens  near  the 
Hungerthurm.  He  led  her  towards  two  towering  poles 
which  supported  a  damask  curtain. 

"  What  pleasantry  is  this,  my  lord  ?  A  masque — a 
new  play-acting  ?  "  cried  her  Highness. 

He  gave  her  a  gilded  cord.  "  Draw  aside  the  curtain, 
madame  ma  mie,"  he  whispered,  "  and  you  shall  see  a 
magicking ! " 

Elizabeth  impetuously  wrenched  at  the  cord ;  the 
curtain  flew  apart  and  revealed  a  beautiful  archway  of 
carven  stone. 

"  Magic  indeed  ! "  she  cried ;  "  only  yestere'en  I  passed 
this  way  and  there  was  no  building  begun  here ! " 

"  Madame  ma  femme,"  said  Friedrich,  "  you  bid  me  offer 
you  a  homage,  so  I  builded  this  in  a  single  night.  Jason 
buried  the  dragon's  teeth  in  the  earth,  and  an  army  sprang 
to  his  bidding !  I  sow  my  commands  in  the  soil,  and  a 
fair  structure  of  stone  straightway  arises  to  symbolise  the 
enduring  love  of  my  heart  for  you." 

"  I  thank  you,  beloved,"  said  Elizabeth,  and  tears  stood 
in  her  eyes,  "  I  thank  you  for  this  homage,  which  will 
tell  of  your  love  for  me  long  after  we  have  passed  from 
men's  thoughts." 

Strange  that  her  Highness  spoke  thus,  for  this  gateway 
is  the  only  building  of  all  those  Friedrich  raised  which 
has  defied  warfare  and  time,  and  stands  unharmed  amid 
the  ruins  of  Heidelberg ;  and  we  may  still  read  the  half 
erased  inscription : — 

"FREDERICUS  V.  ELIZABETHAE  CONJUGI  CARISS. 

A.D.    M.D.C.XV.    F.C." 

Thus  the  days  passed  in  peace.  In  August  came  the 
news  that  the  Empress  Anne  had  been  disappointed  in 
her  hopes;  nay,  that  these  hopes  had  been  delusion. 
Many  people  laughed,  some  rejoiced,  and  notably  the 
Archduke  Maximilian,  who  had  expressed  his  anxiety  at 
the  prospect  of  a  regency  in  such  violent  terms  that  even 
the  amiable  Emperor  Matthias  had  been  offended,  now 


THE  FIRST  MESH  IS  SPUN  77 

rejoiced  so  openly  at  the  Empress's  disappointment  that 
the  Emperor's  anger  was  thoroughly  aroused.  And  the 
poor,  stout  Empress  Anne  ?  Who  gave  a  thought  to  the 
barren  woman's  sadness  ?  Of  a  truth,  it  is  a  ruthless 
game  this  of  intrigue  and  kingcraft ! 

The  long  summer  days  closed  in,  and  once  more 
autumn  came  to  Heidelberg.  The  Lady  Elizabeth  and 
Mistress  Anne  spoke  of  things  dear  to  woman's  heart,  and 
the  embroidery  frames  were  laid  aside  for  delicate  fabrics 
and  filmy  laces.  It  was :  "  Sweet  Anne,  what  will  you 
name  the  little  one  ?  Ah  !  how  good  'twill  be  to  see  you 
with  a  tiny  sweeting  of  your  own.  If  'tis  a  maiden  she 
must  be  the  little  love  of  my  boy's  heart,  and  if  God  gives 
you  a  man-child  he  will  be  my  naughty  romp's  trusty 
friend."  And  thus  they  talked  and  dreamed  while  they 
sewed  little  garments  for  the  newcomer's  adorning. 

Then  came  an  autumn  day  when  all  was  anxiety  and 
yet  hope.  For  long  hours  the  mother  agonised —  hi  vain. 
Alas !  the  feeble  cry  of  greeting  to  the  world  was  never 
heard,  and  sweet  Mistress  Anne  lay  with  empty  arms  and 
yearning  heart.  Elizabeth  Stuart  left  her  neither  night 
nor  day,  and  gave  the  comfort  of  her  loving  care  to  the 
forlorn  one.  ' '  Courage,  Anne  !  courage !  You  will  bear 
other  children,  you  will  tell  other  little  ones  of  their  brother 
whom  God  loved  too  well  to  leave  to  us,"  she  said.  But 
Mistress  Anne  shook  her  head;  and  one  morning  as  the  sun 
rose  in  harsh  splendour  over  the  frost-glittering  gardens, her 
gentle  soul  followed  her  dead  child  into  the  eternal  silence. 

Deep  sadness  lay  on  Elizabeth  Stuart,  and  she  fell  sick 
from  grief.  As  if  in  mercy  God  sent  the  stern-browed 
angel  Anxiety  to  fight  the  demon  of  despair  in  Schom- 
berg's  heart.  He  had  been  drawn  very  close  to  her 
Highness  in  those  hours  near  Mistress  Anne's  bedside,  and 
while  Elizabeth  lay  stricken  to  sickness  by  grief,  it  as- 
suaged his  sorrow  to  watch  over  all  and  keep  order  in  the 
household  for  her  Highness's  sake.  Yet  he  was  so  bowed 
with  sorrow,  so  broken,  that  men  wondered  and  women 
loved  him  reverently  for  the  tribute  of  agony  which  he 
paid  to  her  he  loved. 


78  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Elizabeth  rose  from  her  bed  of  sickness  white  and  wan, 
and  Friedrich  wrote  urgently  to  England  to  pray  my  lady 
of  Harrington  to  come  at  once.  She  arrived  at  Heidelberg 
shortly  before  Christmas,  and  her  comfortable  good  sense 
seemed  the  only  medicine  which  could  heal  Elizabeth's  pain. 

"  See,  dear  child,"  said  my  lady, "  I  would  not  have  you 
forget  to  mourn.  Were  you  not  sad  I  could  not  love  you  ; 
but  there  is  no  beauty  in  unending  woe.  It  is  one  of  the 
absurdities  which  men  have  fashioned,  this,  that  the  strong 
soul  when  stricken  must  wail  for  ever.  See  here,  it  is 
with  the  heart  as  with  the  body — the  wounded  flesh  heals 
in  time — never  the  same  again,  for  there  must  be  a  scar 
where  a  deep  wound  has  been ;  but  we  do  not  say :  '  How 
beautiful  a  body  it  is  which  festers  and  will  not  heal ! ' 
Rather  we  say  :  '  Alack !  unclean  blood.'  And  with  the 
soul  it  is  even  so  ;  the  strong  and  healthy  mind  heals  a.nd 
is  not  conquered  by  pain.  '  Never  the  same  again,'  you 
say,  madame  ?  Nay,  but  we  are  never  the  same  one 
hour  to  the  next,  for  have  we  not  lived  through  that  hour 
and  endured  the  carving  hand  of  time  ? " 

Often  she  spoke  thus  to  Elizabeth,  and  she  forgot  not 
to  let  her  weep  out  her  grief. 

Yet  perchance  Amalia  Solms  unwittingly  helped  her 
Highness  even  more  than  my  lady  of  Harrington,  for  she 
applied  the  stinging  acid  of  the  pity  of  a  narrow  nature. 
She  spoke  of  Mistress  Anne  as  "cette  pauvre  morte,"  and 
she  seemed  to  Elizabeth  to  belittle  her  memory  by  allusions 
to  her  as  a  poor  dead  thing.  Then,  too,  her  assumption 
that  she  could  take  Anne's  place  in  Elizabeth's  life  stung 
her  Highness  to  anger,  and  wrath  is  sometimes  a  good 
fresh  breeze  over  a  brooding  soul. 

"  La  lourde  will  drive  me  to  a  frenzy,  dear  Harrington," 
she  exclaimed  one  day  when  the  Solms  had  taken  upon 
herself  to  command  one  of  the  tiring- women  to  put  straight 
her  Highness's  jewels.  "  She  thinks  to  play  my  Anne's 
part,  alack ! " 

"  She  is  a  good  soul,  madame,"  said  my  lady  placidly. 

"  Good — good  !  I  am  weary  of  her  goodness  !  She  is 
good  because  there  is  nothing  bad  in  her,  that  is  her  only 


THE  FIRST  MESH  IS  SPUN  79 

merit,"  Elizabeth  said  sharply,  and  then  a  smile  crept  over 
her  lips  and  she  laughed  at  her  own  ill-humour.  Thus 
through  the  gate  which  annoyance  had  cleft  in  the  dark- 
ness of  her  soul  her  sense  of  humour  broke  through,  and 
my  lady  of  Harrington  knew  that  her  Highness's  sadness 
was  lighter. 

The  current  of  life  at  Heidelberg  flowed  on  peacefully 
once  more.  Prince  Friedrich  was  often  called  away  by 
political  affairs,  and  when  he  sojourned  at  Heidelberg  there 
was  much  talk  of  State  matters,  and  members  of  both  the 
contending  parties  often  tarried  at  the  castle  to  discuss 
grave  questions.  Friedrich  played  his  part  with  ardour, 
and  if  he  won  the  hearts  of  the  Protestant  princes,  he  also 
endeavoured  to  propitiate  the  Catholics  by  his  moderate 
tone  in  religious  matters.  But  he  did  so  against  the  will  of 
Scultetus,  whose  relentless  bigotry  knew  no  half  measures. 
Another  sombre  influence  was  Duke  Christian  of  Anhalt, 
Ritter  Christel's  father.  Duke  Christian  was  a  strong, 
harsh  old  man  of  giant  stature,  beneath  whose  shaggy  over- 
hanging brows  the  pale  blue  eyes  glared  fiercely.  It  was 
said  that  his  religion  was  that  of  a  fanatic,  but  those  who 
knew  him  nearer  whispered  that  faith  and  integrity  were 
burnt  out  of  his  heart  by  an  almost  insane  passion  of 
hatred  of  the  House  of  Hapsburg. 

Such  were  the  two  advisers  who  moulded  the  maniable 
clay  of  Friedrich's  weak  nature,  and  if  at  first  he  acted 
with  moderation,  and  won  golden  opinions  from  friends 
and  antagonists,  the  poison  seed  of  intolerance  but  grew 
the  stronger  in  his  being.  A  visit  to  Munich  which,  as 
her  Highness  was  with  child,  he  undertook  alone,  did  not 
mend  matters.  His  cousin,  Duke  Maximilian  of  Bavaria, 
spoke  with  him  gravely  and  warned  him  to  avoid  those 
persons  who  urged  ambition  upon  him.  "  To  keep  what  he 
has  got  should  be  the  statesman's  first  care,  mon  cousin," 
the  wily  Bavarian  told  him.  "  Remember  the  story  of  the 
dog  who,  having  a  bone  in  his  mouth,  opened  his  teeth  to 
snatch  a  joint  of  mutton,  and  so  lost  his  bone  and  missed 
the  meat  as  well." 

"  But  you  forget  that  in  these  days  it  is  no  question  of 


80  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

personal  ambition,  your  Highness,"  cried  Friedrich  hotly, 
"  there  is  religion  to  be  guarded  and  helped  ;  though  our 
faith  is  not  the  same,  you  can  understand  that." 

"  Beware  of  ambition  dressed  in  a  preacher's  gown, 
Palsgrave,"  replied  Maximilian,  with  the  astute  eyes  and 
the  grave,  false  smile.  Then  Friedrich,  young  and  ardent, 
disclosed  his  own  honest  plan.  He  saw  the  peace  and 
plenty  in  Bavaria,  the  lenient  rule,  the  excellent  order, 
and  he  proposed  that  Maximilian  should  become  king  of 
Bohemia  at  Matthias'  death.  Obviously  the  Catholic 
princes  would  consent,  and  Friedrich  promised  the  support 
of  the  Princes  of  the  Protestant  Union,  upon  the  sole 
condition  of  religious  freedom  to  all  Protestants,  both 
Calvinist  and  Lutheran,  in  Bohemia.  But  Maximilian 
would  hear  nothing  of  it ;  he  spoke  of  his  faithful  love  of 
the  House  of  Hapsburg,  and  of  his  admiration  for  Ferdinand 
of  Styria,  the  acknowledged  candidate  for  Bohemia  and  the 
empire.  He  smiled  to  himself  grimly;  why  should  he 
jeopardise  his  Bavaria  for  a  tottering  throne  in  an  unruly 
country  like  Bohemia  ?  No,  he  would  like  to  be  the  first 
Elector  and  to  annex  several  portions  of  the  Rhenish 
Palatinate,  but  this  he  did  not  mention. 

His  Highness  Friedrich's  visit  was  not  soothing  to  his 
vanity,  for  he  felt  that  Maximilian  treated  him  like  some 
eager,  imprudent  boy,  and,  offended  in  his  young  pride, 
his  mind  veered  the  more  to  Duke  Christian  of  Anhalt 
and  Scultetus,  who  fostered  in  him  the  idea  of  his  im- 
portance as  leader  of  the  Union,  and  the  representative 
of  German  Protestantism.  It  were  too  much  to  say  that 
Friedrich  left  Munich  in  pique,  but  he  was  strong  in  his 
desire  to  hasten  back  to  Heidelberg,  and  love  lent  him 
wings,  for  he  longed  to  be  with  the  Lady  Elizabeth,  and 
dreaded  lest  she  should  be  confined  in  his  absence.  And 
he  rode  home  so  wildly  through  the  snow  drifts  that  he 
reached  Heidelberg  in  a  day  and  a  night,  and  his  Lord 
Chamberlain,  Count  Solms,  with  the  rest  of  the  suite, 
arrived  long  after  the  impetuous  prince. 

"  His  Highness  the  Palsgrave  is  too  ardent  a  lover  to  be 
a  statesman,"  said  Duke  Maximilian  of  Bavaria  grimly, 
when  he  heard  of  his  kinsman's  exploit. 


CHAPTER  V 

WARNING 

IN  December  1617  Elizabeth's  second  son  Charles 
Louis  was  born,  and  all  Heidelberg  was  astounded 
to  see  Imperial  ambassadors  arrive  from  Prague  to 
honour  the  champions  of  Protestantism,  and  congratulate 
their  Highnesses  upon  the  infant's  birth.  King  James  of 
England,  hearing  of  this,  was  mighty  proud,  and  averred 
that  the  Catholic  world,  knowing  its  own  weakness,  was 
wooing  the  favour  of  the  powerful  Protestant  ruler, 
Friedrich  of  the  Palatinate.  Now  her  Highness  Eliza- 
beth, weary  of  the  peaceful  monotony  of  Heidelberg,  was 
all  too  ready  to  respond  to  the  overtures  of  the  Imperial 
Court,  and  sent  warm  and  friendly  messages  to  her 
Majesty  the  Empress.  The  portly  lady  proclaimed  her- 
self highly  gratified,  and  roused  herself  sufficiently  from 
her  lethargic  ease  to  pen  a  letter  to  Elizabeth.  She 
wrote  that  she  greatly  desired  the  honour  of  greeting 
her  Highness ;  it  would  be  a  joy  to  her  to  welcome 
Madame  I'^lectrice  at  Prague. 

"  Let  us  make  a  pilgrimage  thither,  my  lord,"  cried  her 
Highness  gaily ;  "  alack !  how  slow  you  are,  sweet  sir,  to 
grasp  the  merriment  of  life  !  I  weary  for  a  journey.  Come, 
let  us  to  Prague ;  I  vow  'twill  be  hugely  diverting !  "  But 
Friedrich  would  not  consent ;  he  urged  the  perils  of  travel 
through  so  disquiet  a  country  as  Bohemia ;  and  he  feared 
some  disturbances  among  the  Protestants,  who  might  seize 
the  occasion  of  his  visit  to  the  Emperor  to  rise  in  revolt. 

"  Oh !  beloved,  these  constant  restrictions  make  me 
rage ! "  she  retorted.  "  First  I  would  go  into  England, 
then  it  is  precedence  which  balks  me.  You  cannot  let 
my  brother  sit  higher  than  you  at  the  banquets,  and  my 
brother  cannot  give  his  place  to  you  !  Then  we  write 

81 


82  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

documents  and  my  father  indites  whole  tomes — and  we 
pay  half  a  hundred  ambassadors  to  settle  the  matter — but 
the  end  is :  her  Highness  does  not  go  into  England  in 
this  year  of  grace ! "  Elizabeth  mimicked  the  portentous 
mouthing  of  King  James. 

"  But,  rnon  cher  et  unique  coeur,"  cried  Friedrich, "  what 
would  you  ?  Now  that  you  are  restored  to  health  there 
shall  be  huntings  and  dancings  here.  The  Frankfurt  fair 
in  spring  will  provide  you  with  many  rich  garments,  and 
you  will  be  diverted  and  occupied  in  their  choosing.  Are 
you  so  weary  of  me,  sweet  Bess  ? " 

"  Alack !  dear  heart,  why  should  I  be  weary  of  you 
because  I  crave  a  journey  ?  You  have  your  State  matters 
to  amuse  you,  why  should  I  not  have  some  interest  in 
worldly  things  too  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  It  is  a  woman's  lot,  madame "  he  began. 

"  Tut !  a  woman's  lot !  I  warrant  other  women  yearn 
for  merriment  and  change  as  I  do  ! "  she  cried.  "  There, 
sir,  I  see  you  are  taking  the  husband's  tone  with  me !  I 
liked  the  lover's  accents  better." 

"  I  am  your  lover,  dearling,  always — but  I  cannot  take 
you  to  Prague,"  he  answered. 

"You  are  like  the  farmer  in  the  old  story,  monseig- 
neur  ! "  she  retorted.  "  He  said  he  would  like  to  drive 
his  good  wife  to  the  fair,  but  unfortunately  he  and  his 
horse  were  going  the  other  way,  so  they  went  to  a  beer 
tavern  instead." 

But  her  Highness  got  her  way  in  the  end,  and  it  was 
decided  that  the  visit  to  Prague  should  take  place  in  the 
spring.  There  were  many  preparations  afoot  in  her 
Highness's  tiring-room ;  white  and  coloured  linen  ruffs, 
lace  rebatoes  of  half-a-dozen  different  shapes  and  sizes, 
new-fashioned  fardingales,  gorgeous  brocaded  overskirts, 
bodices  long  in  the  French  mode,  bodices  short  with  the 
loose  Dutch  waist,  shoe  roses,  embroidered  gloves,  riding 
gauntlets,  and  velvet  gowns  for  the  hunt,  tall  felt  hats 
with  drooping  feathers,  small  velvet  caps  with  upstand- 
ing plumes,  fans  and  ribbons  and  rosettes,  fabrics  of  all 
kinds,  silks,  taffetas,  satins  and  velvets  were  strewn  in  her 


WARNING  83 

Highness's  tiring-room.  Anxious  merchants  journeyed 
from  Frankfurt,  where  the  word  had  been  given  that  her 
Highness  Palatine's  wardrobe  was  to  be  replenished. 

Then  one  day  in  early  spring,  when  Elizabeth  returned 
from  riding,  she  found  the  Prince  awaiting  her  at  the  door 
of  the  Friedrich's  Bau  with  grave  and  anxious  mien  and 
with  a  mud-bespattered  gentleman  standing  beside  him. 

"  Captain  Bell  craves  the  honour  of  being  presented  to 
your  Highness,"  Prince  Friedrich  said,  "  he  rides  on  urgent 
business.  He  will  tell  you  all  when  you  receive  him." 

"  I  am  ready  to  speak  with  you,  sir,  if  you  will  follow  me 
upstairs  to  my  audience  chamber,"  Elizabeth  said  graci- 
ously. They  passed  up  the  winding  stairway,  through  the 
marbled  corridor,  and  into  the  tapestry-hung  audience  hall. 

"  Now,  sir ! "  cried  her  Highness  impetuously,  "  what  is 
this  business  which  hath  brought  a  cloud  of  anxiety  to 
my  husband's  brow  ? " 

"  Madame,  it  is  indeed  a  grave  matter  I  have  to  relate. 
Your  Highness  intends  to  visit  Prague  next  month, 
and " 

"  Most  certainly,  sir,  I  travel  to  Prague  in  May — it  is 
decided,"  she  said  coldly,  and  shot  a  glance  of  angry 
suspicion  at  Prince  Friedrich,  whose  reluctancy  she  still 
resented. 

"  Your  Highness  goes  at  the  risk  of  her  life  then,"  said 
Bell,  "  there  is  a  plot,  madame,  of  which  I  have  proof." 

"  I  go  as  the  guest  of  her  Majesty  the  Empress  and 
under  her  protection.  I  shall  be  safe,"  returned  Elizabeth 
haughtily. 

"  Madame,  I  implore  you  to  listen  to  me.  The  Em- 
press, of  course,  knows  nothing  of  this  hideous  plot " 

"  Captain  Bell,  we  are  living  in  the  year  of  grace  six- 
teen hundred  and  seventeen,  we  are  no  longer  in  the  dark 
ages  when  murder  was  an  ordinary  matter.  These  are 
fond  tales,  sir,  I  will  not  hearken,"  she  said.  Bell  drew 
a  bundle  of  papers  from  his  tunic. 

"  Read,  madame,"  he  answered.  She  took  the  papers 
and  spread  them  on  a  table. 

"  Some  are  in  cypher,  sir,  I  cannot  read  them.     Ah  • 


84  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

here  is  one  in  German  and  another  in  Italian.  '  Touch- 
ing the  sleeping  potion  for  an  illustrious  lady,  I  have 
a  delicious  medicine  which  gives  long  sleep,' "  she  read 
aloud,  " '  sweet  to  the  taste  but  very  faint,  not  notice- 
able if  mixed  with  wine,  recommended  to  be  used  with 
good  potent  Malvoisie.'  Tut,  sir,  this  is  some  apothe- 
cary's formula,  some  doctor  suing  for  patronage  and 
setting  forth  the  excellence  of  a  soothing  draught,"  she 
said  impatiently. 

"  If  your  Highness  will  read  the  signature  the  sinister 
import  is  but  too  clear,"  the  Englishman  said.  She  turned 
the  document  around. 

"  Theophania — Theophania  ?  I  know  not  the  name," 
she  said  in  a  musing  tone. 

"  Yet  it  is  a  name  known  throughout  Europe,  madam e. 
Theophania  is  the  drug-wife  of  Naples,  and  her  name 
has  been  mentioned  in  every  poison  trial  of  the  last  ten 
years,"  he  answered.  "  She  ranks  higher  in  her  horrible 
craft  than  Mrs.  Turner  of  London,"  he  added.  Elizabeth 
started. 

"  She  has  paid  for  her  crimes,  sir ;  I  will  not  hear 
mention  of  her,"  she  said  quickly. 

"  Madame,  I  crave  forgiveness  for  my  plain  speaking. 
Theophania  has  boasted  that,  an  she  had  had  the  poison- 
ing of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  none  could  have  traced  her 
drugs.  Her  victims  die  swiftly,  and  by  a  gentle  ceasing 
of  the  life's  pulses ;  there  is  no  struggle,  no  pain,  and  no 
trace  in  or  on  the  body."  He  spoke  quietly. 

"  How  got  you  this  knowledge,  sir  ?  How  came  you 
by  these  papers  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Your  Highness,  I  am  a  soldier  of  fortune.  Till  re- 
cently I  served  with  the  imperial  troops  against  the 
Turks.  Lately  I  have  been  in  Vienna,  lodged  in  the 
house  of  a  priest.  One  night  when  he  thought  me  at  a 
tavern,  I  had  come  home  early.  My  bedchamber  was 
near  his  parlour,  I  heard  voices,  and  as  I  lay  a-bed  I  heard 
the  mention  of  your  name.  I  listened,  and  I  heard  that 
as  you  are  a  danger  to  the  Catholics,  you  are  to  be  put 
away  secretly.  I  heard  the  stranger's  voice  say  that  he 


WARNING  85 

was  the  agent  of  the  Archduke  Maximilian.  All  know 
how  that  prince  inclines  to  the  use  of  poison ;  did  he 
not  propose  to  Ferdinand  of  Styria  to  remove  Bishop 
Klesl,  when  the  favourite  stood  in  their  way  in  the  suc- 
cession question  ?  Your  Highness  will  remember  that 
the  plan  leaked  out,  and  made  much  talk  three  years 
ago  ?  Well,  madame,  there  was  mention  of  poison  both 
for  your  Highness  and  for  your  son ;  the  Elector  Pala- 
tine would  seem  to  commit  suicide  from  grief — but  that 
plan  was  only  slightly  worked  out ;  I  heard  no  more,  for 
they  spoke  low.  The  next  morning  my  friend  the  priest 
was  busied  in  the  copying  of  various  documents.  I  pro- 
posed to  him  to  drink  a  cup  of  sack  with  me.  He  said 
he  had  no  time  to  go  abroad,  and  went  on  writing.  I 
hurried  to  the  tavern,  bought  two  bottles  of  sack ;  then 
I  went  to  a  friendly  apothecary,  told  him  that  I  was  near 
mad  with  sleeplessness,  and  he  gave  me  a  drug  the  half  of 
which  he  vowed  would  throw  me  into  a  slumber  for  long 
hours.  I  put  the  whole  contents  of  the  phial  into  one 
of  the  bottles  of  sack  and  went  home.  The  priest  was 
still  writing.  I  told  him  I  would  give  him  a  feast,  and 
pressed  him  to  go  to  the  tavern  with  me ;  then  when  he 
refused,  as  I  had  judged  he  would,  I  pretended  to  re- 
member I  had  two  flasks  of  sack  packed  away.  I  fetched 
them.  We  began  to  drink  the  undrugged  wine.  By  a 
seeming  false  movement,  I  upset  both  his  glass  and  the 
flask.  We  made  merry,  and  I  opened  the  drugged  flask 
and  poured  it  into  his  glass ;  he  drank,  while  I  sipped 
my  wine,  which  had  come  from  the  other  bottle.  Fin- 
ally, madame,  the  priest  fell  into  a  heavy  slumber,  and  I 
was  at  liberty  to  examine  the  papers  on  his  table.  I 
copied  them,  one  and  all,  and  these  are  they."  He 
pointed  at  the  documents  which  her  Highness  held  in 
her  hand.  "  Two  days  I  tarried  in  Vienna,  leading  the 
usual  lazy  life  of  the  unemployed  soldier,  then  I  gave 
out  I  must  ride  to  Prague  to  seek  better  work.  I  took 
a  hearty  farewell  of  the  priest,  who  suspected  nothing, 
rode  off  towards  Prague,  then  turned  westward,  and  I 
am  here  at  your  Highness's  service." 


86 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,"  she  answered,  "  but  I  must  ask  you 
why  you  have  thus  risked  yourself  to  save  me  ? " 

"  Madame,  I  have  told  you  I  am  a  soldier  of  fortune." 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  was  out  of  work  and 
getting  no  pay  from  the  Emperor.  One  service  is  as 
good  as  another  to  me,  and  it  would  have  been  an  ugly 
thought  to  me  that  a  woman  had  been  poisoned  and  that 
I  could  have  warned  her  and  had  not  done  so." 

"  Your  frankness  pleases  me,  sir,"  Elizabeth  said  with 
a  smile,  "  but  I  cannot  credit  your  story  for  all  that." 

"  Your  Highness,  I  am  a  rough  man  who  earns  his 
bread  by  warfare.  When  I  came  hither  I  had  under- 
taken to  warn  you  in  the  hope  of  payment  for  my 
trouble.  I  will  take  no  pay  from  you  now,  as  you  will  not 
credit  my  good  faith.  I  have  warned  you,  and  I  crave 
permission  to  go  on  my  way."  He  bowed  awkwardly,  and 
turned  towards  the  door.  Prince  Friedrich,  who  had 
stood  silent  during  this  colloquy,  laid  a  hand  on  his 
shoulder. 

"Stay,  sir,"  he  said,  "I  will  drive  a  bargain  with  her 
Highness.  Madame,  will  you  at  least  trust  Captain  Bell 
to  carry  these  papers  into  England  ?  Let  him  tell  his  tale 
to  his  Majesty,  and  bring  us  his  advice  in  answer." 

"  Why  this,  dear  my  lord  ? "  she  cried  impatiently. 
"  I  journey  to  Prague  in  a  few  weeks'  time ;  when  this 
gentleman  returns  out  of  England  he  will  find  me  visiting 
her  Majesty  the  Empress." 

"  Then,  sir,  I  commission  you  to  ride  in  all  haste  into 
England.  Pray  God  you  will  return  here  in  time  to 
hinder  our  journey  to  Prague  if  his  Majesty's  wisdom 
deems  it  safer  for  us  to  stay  at  home,"  said  Friedrich. 
"  Madame,  will  you  consent  to  this,  and  give  me  your 
promise  to  obey  King  James  if  he  counsels  abandonment 
of  the  visit  ? " 

'  Why  should   my  father   know   more    of  this   than 
we  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  promise,  madame  ?  "  Friedrich 
repeated  anxiously. 

"  Yes,  an  my  father  can  adduce  good  reasons  for  not 


WARNING  87 

going  to  Prague,  I  will  obey  Then  hasten,  Captain 
Bell,  you  have  three  weeks  to  ride  to  England  and 
back ;  longer  I  will  not  tarry,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"  Why  this  mad  plan,  beloved  ? "  she  said  when  Bell 
had  left ;  "  why  should  my  father  be  gifted  with  such 
penetration  as  to  be  especially  able  to  judge  of  the  truth 
of  this  absurd  tale  ? " 

"  Bell  is  an  Englishman,  dear  heart.  If  his  story  is  a 
mere  pretext  for  gaining  gold,  he  will  not  ride  to  England, 
and  we  shall  never  hear  more  of  him,"  said  Friedrich. 

"  Yes,  that  is  wise ;  meanwhile,  dear  love,  you  err  an 
you  think  I  shall  cease  my  preparations  for  our  journey," 
she  said  gaily. 

The  days  passed  quickly,  and  her  Highness's  wardrobe 
waxed,  also  Elizabeth's  impatience  to  start  on  her  journey 
to  Prague.  If  she  gave  Bell  and  his  grim  warning  a 
thought,  it  was  as  to  some  past  slight  annoyance.  She 
did  not  expect  to  see  the  adventurer  return  to  Heidel- 
berg. He  had  been  given  a  purse  of  gold  and  a  remount 
for  his  trouble,  as  Prince  Friedrich  had  believed  the  man 
to  have  been  hi  earnest.  "  Although  he  might  be  a 
dupe,  he  was  no  rascal,"  his  Highness  had  remarked. 

The  visit  was  fixed  for  the  middle  of  May,  but  towards 
the  end  of  April  a  letter  from  her  Majesty  the  Empress 
was  brought  to  Heidelberg.  It  informed  their  High- 
nesses Palatine  that  the  Emperor  purposed  summoning 
the  Diet  of  the  Empire  to  Ratisbon  towards  the  20th  of 
May,  and  therefore  her  Majesty  must  renounce  the  honour 
of  receiving  their  Highnesses  in  Prague  for  the  nonce,  but 
she  prayed  Elizabeth  and  her  eldest  son  to  accompany 
the  Elector  to  Ratisbon.  The  Empress  added  that  the 
journey  thither  from  Heidelberg  would  prove  less  arduous 
than  the  long  road  to  Prague,  and  that  the  unsettled  state 
of  Bohemia  rendered  travelling  both  unsafe  and  un- 
pleasant. 

"  And  this  friendly,  anxious  lady  is  the  cruel  monster 
who  would  poison  me  an  she  could  ! "  cried  Elizabeth  as 
she  handed  the  missive  to  his  Highness.  "  It  is  now  a 
full  month  since  Captain  Bell  rode  to  England.  Methinks 


88  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

we  shall  ne'er  set  eyes  on  him  again.     So  I  shall  see 
Ratisbon  and  the  Imperial  Court  at  last ! " 

As  the  appointed  time  for  their  Highnesses'  departure 
drew  near,  Elizabeth  was  in  a  fever  of  excitement ;  she 
loved  change,  and  it  was  given  to  her  to  enjoy  peace  and 
content,  but  withal  to  endure  a  certain  monotony  at 
Heidelberg.  The  departure  was  fixed  for  a  Tuesday, 
and  on  the  preceding  Monday  her  Highness  had  ordered 
a  grand  ball  to  be  held  in  the  Hall  of  Mirrors.  From 
the  neighbouring  castles  the  lords  and  ladies  were  bidden 
to  the  feast,  and  on  the  morning  the  town  of  Heidelberg 
was  filled  with  constantly  arriving  companies  of  horse- 
men, and  sometimes  a  heavy,  swaying,  springless  vehicle, 
gilded  and  carven,  awakened  the  curiosity  of  the  towns- 
folk, for  such  carriages  were  rare  enough  in  those  days 
and  only  the  nobles  owned  them.  In  fact  the  purchase 
of  a  carosse  was  deemed  a  weighty  matter,  especially 
as,  for  the  most  part,  these  lumbering  monsters  were 
built  in  far-off  Ghent  by  the  famous  master-builders  of 
Flanders.  When  a  carosse  was  delivered  to  the  pur- 
chaser the  master-builder  travelled  all  the  way  with  his 
masterpiece,  and  gave  it  over  with  much  formality. 
There  were  a-many  carriages,  fully  a  hundred  and  fifty, 
in  the  rich  and  peaceful  Palatinate,  not  counting,  of 
course,  her  Highness  Palatine's  own  caresses. 

The  ladies  who  travelled  in  these  coaches  were  shaken 
and  jolted  cruelly,  and  even  the  shortest  journey  was  an 
adventurous  undertaking,  for  the  roads  were  so  rough 
that  it  constantly  happened  that  a  wheel  would  stick  in 
the  heavy  mud  or  become  wedged  in  some  deep  rut,  and 
then  my  lady  and  her  family  would  be  obliged  to  descend 
and  stand  waiting  by  the  roadside  while  my  lord  and  his 
attendants  laboured  to  set  up  the  toppling,  ungainly, 
carven  and  gilded  vehicle ;  yet  it  was  so  grand  a  thing  to 
own  a  coach,  it  was  so  splendid  to  arrive  at  a  town  in  such 
opulence,  that  my  lady  preferred  any  discomfort,  and  pro- 
fessed herself  astounded  at  her  mother's  and  grandmother's 
misfortune  in  having  been  obliged  to  travel  a-horseback  or 
strapped  into  a  pillion  behind  some  stout  serving-man. 


WARNING  89 

"  The  Goldene  Hirsch,"  the  beautiful  renaissance  hos- 
telry, was  full  of  guests,  for  it  was  not  every  noble  family 
which  possessed  a  palace  in  Heidelberg,  though  there  were 
many  tall  gabled  houses  in  the  narrow  streets  which  were 
known  by  high-sounding  names,  such  as :  the  Hirschorn 
Palace,  the  House  Ingelheim,  Ritter  von  Diebsberg's  Man- 
sion, and  the  rest.  It  was  a  gay  scene,  and  as  a  sign  of 
the  changed  times  the  old  men  noticed  that  there  were  no 
broils  ending  in  bloodshed,  and  that  though  the  serving- 
men  jostled  and  quarrelled,  their  lords  were  affable  and 
friendly  to  each  other.  Yes,  it  was  a  time  of  peace  and 
prosperity ;  war  and  feud  had  vanished  for  ever,  it  seemed, 
from  the  quiet  Rhineland.  "  Pray  God  we  may  never  see 
the  old  dark  days  return,"  they  said.  Yet  they  looked 
back  to  the  vanished  turbulent  times  with  regret,  these 
old  men ;  "  it  was  a  merry  life  withal,"  they  said.  But,  in 
truth,  it  was  for  their  own  youth  that  they  yearned,  youth 
which  made  life  so  splendidly  poignant  both  in  joy  and 
pain,  youth  shining  in  the  mirror  of  remembrance,  and 
time  had  blurred  the  mirror  so  that  all  they  saw  were  the 
good  old  days — however  bad  they  were — the  good  old 
days  when  they  were  young. 

Towards  four  of  the  clock  a  number  of  guests  made 
their  way  up  the  narrow  stone-paved  road  to  the  castle. 
Several  coaches  lumbered  slowly  up,  the  horses  straining 
at  the  traces  and  almost  slipping. backwards  on  the  steep 
incline. 

First  there  was  a  banquet  in  the  newly  finished  hall 
of  the  Englische  Bau,  a  vast  room  hung  with  tapestries 
depicting  hunting  scenes,  and  lit  by  hundreds  of  candles 
whose  light  fell  discreetly  on  the  silks  and  satins  of  the 
women's  gowns,  and  lit  the  splendour  of  their  flashing 
jewels.  Her  Highness  Elizabeth  was  right  merry  and 
gracious,  and  her  white  satin  gown  of  the  newest  mode 
was  the  object  of  much  attention  on  the  part  of  the  lady 
guests.  Prince  Friedrich,  too,  was  richly  attired  in  ivory- 
coloured  satin,  with  hugely  puffed  breeches  and  silken  hose, 
long  flat-toed  shoes  with  jewelled  roses,  a  doublet  slashed 
with  silver,  and  a  stiff  square  ruff  of  fine  linen  edged  with 


90  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

lace.  Prince  Christel  was  splendid  in  an  azure  doublet, 
and  even  his  father,  fierce  old  Anhalt,  had  donned  a  gar- 
ment of  purple  velvet  slashed  and  puffed  in  the  latest 
design,  although  he  had  strenuously  refused  to  alter  his 
short  cut  of  hair  to  suit  the  present  mode  of  falling  love- 
locks. "  I  have  kept  my  head  trimmed  all  my  days,  and 
to  affect  a  jackanapes  mode,  sir,  and  go  with  my  hair 
falling  on  to  my  ruff — no,  sir,  by  my  redemption !  no, 
sir ! "  he  had  bawled  at  the  simpering  barber. 

The  banquet  lasted  long,  for  in  1 6 1 7  a  feast  meant  solid 
eating  and  drinking.  The  dishes  were  over  a  hundred  and 
sixty  in  number,  not  counting  the  sweetmeats ;  for  it  had 
been  considered  shame  to  a  kitchen-master  had  he  omitted 
the  serving  of  any  beast,  bird,  or  fish  to  be  procured  in  the 
countryside.  There  were  wild  boars'  heads,  pigs  roasted 
whole,  barons  of  beef,  entire  sheep,  whole  deer,  hares  and 
wild  birds,  capons  and  geese,  swans  and  peacocks,  eels,  and 
perch,  and  salmon,  and  trout,  and  two  different  sorts  of 
soups,  and  pasties  and  tarts,  and  sweetmeats  for  the 
womenkind.  Each  guest  had  a  spoon  and  knife,  and  a 
goblet  for  his  own  use ;  and  so  wonderful  was  the  luxury 
and  refinement  at  Heidelberg  that  several  times  during  the 
banquet  the  guests  were  given  clean  platters  of  silver  and 
even  of  gold.  Often,  too,  pages  presented  the  revellers  with 
bowls  filled  with  lavender-scented  water  wherein  to  wash, 
and  delicate  linen  napkins  wherewith  to  dry  their  hands. 

At  eight  of  the  clock  the  guests  assembled  in  the  Hall 
of  Mirrors,  and  the  musicians  struck  up  a  gay  yet  stately 
measure.  Old  Anhalt  led  out  the  Electress  Juliane, 
Prince  Friedrich  danced  with  the  Lady  of  Hirschhorn, 
while  her  Highness  Elizabeth  gave  her  hand  to  Prince 
Christel.  In  stiff  and  stately  grace  the  old  Electress 
paced  across  the  marble  floor  in  the  sliding,  swaying  steps 
of  the  ancient  pavyn,  and  Prince  Friedrich  followed  with 
the  dignified  portly  Lady  of  Hirschhorn. 

"  Do  you  know,  sweet  cousin,  the  words  which  go  with 
this  pavyn  tune  ? "  whispered  Christel  as  they  stood  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  hall,  while  the  other  couples  accom- 
plished their  solemn  dance. 


WARNING  91 

"  Are  there  words  to  it,  Christel  ? "  she  answered ;  "  say 
them  to  me  as  we  dance."  She  gave  him  her  hand,  and 
commenced  the  slow,  gliding  motion.  He  lifted  her  hand 
high,  and  bending  towards  her  he  murmured  as  they  swept 
forward  through  the  long  room : 

"  Belle  qui  tiens  ma  vie 
Captive  sous  tes  yeulx, 
Qui  m'as  1'ame  ravie 
D'un  sourire  gracieux, 
Viens  tot  me  secourir 
Ou  me  fauldra  mourir." 

The  verse  was  indeed  that  of  the  ancient  pavyn  melody ; 
it  fell  from  his  lips  in  rhythm  to  the  stately  measure, 
and  as  he  whispered  the  last  words  the  dance  ended, 
and  he  bowed  low,  while  Elizabeth  Stuart  bent  in  a  deep 
obeisance. 

"  Do  not  die  yet,  cousin,"  she  said,  laughing ;  "  you  shall 
woo  me  to  dance  at  Ratisbon,  and  we  will  tread  a  pavyn 
once  more  together."  She  turned  towards  the  Electress- 
mother.  "  I  shall  not  dance  a  galliard  so  early  in  the 
night's  pleasure,  ma  mere.  We  will  watch  the  merry 
ones  a-hopping  it."  The  music  rang  out  in  a  tripping, 
hurried  measure,  and  in  an  instant  the  hall  was  full  of 
energetic  dancers.  Her  Highness  sat  beside  Juliane. 

"  A  galliard  is  an  absurd  thing,"  she  said  gaily.  "  Look  ! 
ma  mere — one,  two,  three,  four,  hop  and  spring !  It  is 
mighty  diverting  to  dance  it,  but  a  monstrous  silly 
sight ! " 

"  Ah !  ma  fille,  when  I  first  came  here  from  Holland 
they  danced  the  volte  at  court !  Have  you  never  seen 
one  ?  Well,  the  peasants  dance  it  still,  and  I  warrant  an 
we  asked  the  Lady  of  Hirschhorn  she  would  be  ready  to 
show  it  us,"  answered  Juliane. 

"  We  will  ask  her ;  we  must  ask  her  ! "  cried  the  im- 
petuous one.  "  Dear  lady,  will  you  tread  a  volte  for  me 
to  see  ? "  she  called  to  the  lady,  who  stood  near. 

"  Tread  a  volte  ?  "  the  worthy  Hirschhorn  answered,  with 
a  good-humoured  laugh.  "  Your  Highness,  there  is  mighty 


92  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

little  treading  in  a  volte,  and  I  am  too  old  by  twenty 
summers  for  such  a  jigging." 

But  Elizabeth  Stuart,  like  a  child  in  the  vehemence  of 
her  wishes,  importuned  the  Lady  of  Hirschhorn :  it  was, 
"  Oh,  madame,  pray  dance  me  a  volte ! "  and  "  Sweet 
madam e,  you  are  as  young  as  a  fine  midsummer  day. 
Do  pace  me  the  volte  ! "  till  at  length  the  worthy  matron 
confessed  that  her  niece  Margarete  Handschusheim  knew 
the  old  jig,  and  that  the  junker  of  Hirschhorn  had  often 
danced  it  at  the  village  kermess.  Then  her  Highness 
called  for  the  tune.  Here  was  another  difficulty;  the 
musicians  knew  it  well,  but  they  declared  that  the  old 
dudelsack,  the  shrill,  wind-blown  peasant  pipes,  was  needed 
to  play  it  aright.  Off  to  the  menials'  quarters  sped  pages 
and  cavaliers,  and  soon  the  piper  was  brought  to  the  Hall 
of  Mirrors. 

Hans  Hirschhorn  and  Margarete  joined  their  left 
hands ;  with  his  right  hand  he  grasped  her  firmly  at 
the  back,  while  with  her  right  hand  she  held  down 
her  skirts  in  front.  They  gave  a  little  hop  to  the  left, 
two  long  steps  to  the  right — and  then  it  was  evident 
why  the  Junker  grasped  his  partner  at  the  back,  and 
why  she  held  down  her  skirts  in  front,  for  there  followed 
three  mighty  springs  in  the  air,  and  the  lady  was 
flung  up  and  forward  till  her  skirts  swirled  dangerously 
high !  Ever  faster  squeaked  the  pipes,  ever  quicker  hopped 
and  jumped  the  dancers.  No  graceful,  courtly  dance 
indeed,  but  hilarious  and  rough.  And  Elizabeth  Stuart 
laughed  until  her  eyes  were  dim  with  merriment's  tears. 
As  if  the  spirit  of  gaiety  had  banished  ceremony  from  the 
Hall  of  Mirrors,  laughter  took  the  place  of  grave  decorum, 
and  dance  after  dance  of  olden  days  succeeded  one  another 
that  evening.  There  were  the  galliard  and  the  branle,  the 
courante  and  the  bassedance,  and  her  Highness  Elizabeth 
tripped  and  jigged  with  all  the  zest  of  her  healthful  youth. 
How  she  laughed,  too,  when  they  told  her  the  words  of 
the  galliard  tunes :  "  J'aimerais  mieux  dormir  seulette," 
"  Baisons  nous  Belle,  la  lune  ne  voit  pas,"  and  the  rest  of 
the  fond  old  rhymes. 


WARNING  93 

Some  one  proposed  to  dance  a  roundel,  and  there  was 
no  lack  of  choice  of  these  rollicking,  old-fashioned  dances. 
There  was  "  La  Lavandiere,"  a  playful  ring  with  hand- 
clapping,  mimic  chasing  of  partners,  and  as  termination 
a  circle  formed  by  the  dancers  singing  a  spirited  chorus. 
Then  came  the  "Branle  a  la  Haye,"  whose  delicious 
finale  gave  each  cavalier  the  right  to  kiss  his  lady  on  the 
cheek. 

"  Cousin,  cousin ! "  laughed  his  Highness  to  Prince 
Christel,  "  I  would  have  dared  to  stake  mine  honour  that 
you  would  dance  the  '  Branle  des  Baisers '  with  my  Lady 
Elizabeth." 

"And  I  would  have  risked  my  soul  for  so  sweet  a 
dance ! "  Christel  answered.  Her  Highness,  who  stood 
near,  laughed  lightly. 

"  I  challenge  you,  cousin  Christel,  to  dance  a  branle 
with  me  at  Ratisbon  at  the  solemn  feast.  And  you,  my 
lord,"  she  cried,  turning  to  Prince  Friedrich,  "  you,  dear 
my  lord,  shall  hop  a  volte  with  her  portly  Majesty  of 
Austria ! " 

As  she  spoke  it  seemed  to  her  that  a  chill  breath  of 
pending  evil  touched  her,  and  the  laughter  froze  on  her 
lips.  She  turned  away  from  Prince  Friedrich  and  Christel, 
and  seating  herself  she  passed  her  white  fingers  wearily 
across  her  brow. 

At  the  doorway  there  was  a  sudden  confusion  among 
the  laughing  crowd,  and  a  tall  gaunt  figure  in  a  shabby 
doublet  burst  through  the  finely  arrayed  throng  of  revel- 
lers. A  man  with  blanched  and  haggard  face,  with  wild 
eyes  and  ill-trimmed  beard,  shouldered  his  way  roughly 
past  the  astonished  dancers.  As  he  passed  up  the  long 
hall  towards  Elizabeth  Stuart  a  hush  fell  on  the  assembly. 
He  seemed  to  be  the  incarnation  of  the  sinister,  and  the 
mirrors  on  the  walls  reflected  the  gaunt  figure  and  made 
the  one  man's  advent  appear  like  the  advance  of  a  hundred 
grim  intruders.  It  was  as  though  the  thousand  candles 
in  the  crystal  chandeliers  shed  a  fainter  radiance,  as 
though  this  one  figure  of  gloom  had  in  very  fact  cast  a 
shadow  on  the  gay  scene. 


94  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

The  man  fell  on  his  knees  before  her  Highness.  "  Thank 
God !  I  am  returned  in  time,  madarne ! "  he  said  hoarsely. 

"  Captain  Bell ! "  she  cried,  springing  up.  "  Sir,  what 
message  of  ill-fortune  do  you  bring  ?  " 

"  Madame — go  not  to  Prague  ! "  he  cried  wildly. 

"  To  Prague  ?  Nay — I  journey  to-morrow  to  the  Im- 
perial Court  at  Ratisbon,"  she  answered. 

"  Go  not — go  not — I  have  proof — poison."  He  choked, 
and  clutched  at  the  neckband  of  his  stiff  pickadell. 

"  Poison "  he  muttered,  and  with  a  groan  fell  forward 

senseless  at  her  Highness's  feet. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    WEB 

"  While  hunters  bold  ride  homeward  with  the  spoil ; 

While  bugles  ring,  and  forest  echoes  cry ; 
While  mowers  laugh,  while  reapers  sing  and  toil ; 

While  vintage  bands  go,  like  a  revel,  by ; 
While  bridals  pass,  while  poor  men  bless, 

While  Yule  is  blithe,  while  summer  fair, 
Oh !  would'st  thou  change  the  flowing  songs  of  peace 
For  triumphs,  and — despair  ?  " 

— FREDERICK  TENNYSON. 

IT  was  a  sinister  ending  to  the  merriment,  and  the 
guests  hurrying  away  from  the  castle  whispered 'that 
the  shabby  stranger  must  have  brought  news  of  dire 
import.  It  seemed  that  he  had  ridden  to  the  gate  on  a 
steed  so  wretchedly  weary  that  the  ostlers,  who  had  led  the 
trembling  animal  to  the  stables,  had  feared  that  the  poor 
beast  would  die  incontinent.  The  rider  himself  had  refused 
food  and  rest,  had  drained  a  cup  of  sack,  had  changed  his 
dusty  garments,  and  had  hurried  to  the  Hall  of  Mirrors. 
Such  haste,  such  neglect  of  self,  proclaimed  him  to  be  the 
bearer  of  disastrous  tidings,  the  guests  contended. 

In  the  Hall  of  Mirrors  the  waxen  candles  flared  and 
guttered  in  the  silver  sockets,  and  the  dawn  peeped 
through  the  windows  at  a  group  of  persons  in  gay  attire 
standing  around  a  haggard  man  in  a  shabby  doublet.  Her 
Highness  Elizabeth,  seated  in  the  gilded  chair,  whence  a 
short  hour  since  she  had  watched  the  volte  dancers,  leaned 
her  head  wearily  on  her  hand.  Louise  Juliane  stood  near, 
and  her  hand  rested  on  Prince  Friedrich's  shoulder.  Old 
Prince  Christian  of  Anhalt,  with  frowning  brows,  stood 
erect  and  fierce,  his  eyes  aflame  with  hatred  and  anger. 
Prince  Christel  stood  behind  her  Highness's  chair ;  Master 
Scultetus,  sombre  and  grim,  and  Count  Schomberg  were 


95 


96  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

there,  and  Arnalia  Solms,  who  clung  to  my  Lady  of  Har- 
rington in  hysterical  fear.  Captain  Bell,  returned  to  con- 
sciousness, had  been  plied  with  food  and  wine,  and  now 
was  telling  his  story  in  quick,  short  sentences.  He  told 
how  he  had  journeyed  into  England  almost  without  draw- 
ing bridle,  but  that,  arrived  in  London,  he  had  found  that 
King  James  was  at  Theobalds.  The  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
however,  had  been  at  his  lodging  in  the  Palace  of  White- 
hall, and  Bell  had  craved  audience  of  his  Grace,  which  had 
been  promised.  He  had  waited  four  days  in  the  duke's 
antechamber,  but  the  crowd  of  petitioners  had  been  so 
great  that  each  day  he  had  been  sent  away  without  speech 
of  his  Grace.  "  I  had  no  gold — or  not  enough  to  purchase 
such  an  honour,"  he  said  bitterly.  At  last  he  had  hidden 
in  the  embrasure  of  one  of  the  windows,  and  after  waiting 
many  hours  had  been  rewarded  by  seeing  my  lord  duke 
come  into  the  antechamber  on  his  way  to  his  barge,  which 
waited  at  the  river  steps.  He  had  flung  himself  on  his 
knees  before  Buckingham,  and  though  the  attendants  had 
endeavoured  to  drag  him  away,  his  loud  cry  that  he  sought 
not  office  or  advancement,  but  that  he  brought  news  of  her 
Highness  Palatine,  had  arrested  the  duke's  attention.  He 
had  shown  him  the  papers  and  told  his  story,  and  his 
Grace  had  despatched  him  to  Theobalds  with  credentials 
which  procured  him  immediate  audience  of  King  James. 
"  I  found  his  Majesty  in  the  gardens  in  the  midst  of  a 
game  of  bowls,  and  in  the  intervals  of  the  game  his 
Majesty  listened  to  my  tale  and  glanced  at  the  papers. 
He  averred  that  it  was  all  a  trumped-up  history.  There 
was  one  document  in  Latin,  and  the  King  was  soon  engaged 
in  pointing  out  the  faults  of  grammar  and  style  therein. 
He  rated  me  soundly  when  I  said  I  knew  little  of  Latin, 
and  he  then  plunged  into  a  learned  discourse  on  the  '  dear 
humanities,'  and  the  necessity  of  learning  for  the  proper 
understanding  of  life.  I  cried  out  that  an  none  hastened 
to  stay  the  Lady  Elizabeth's  journey  to  the  Imperial  Court, 
her  understanding  of  life  would  be  completed  by  the  know- 
ledge of  death ;  but  his  Majesty  in  wrath  bade  me  begone, 
saying  that  haste  and  wisdom  did  ne'er  walk  hand  in  hand 


THE  WEB  97 

— that  I  had  haste  and  he  had  wisdom.  He  named  me 
a  '  domned  fule,'  "  Bell  added,  with  a  short  laugh.  Her 
Highness  smiled. 

"  You  bring  me  a  very  breath  of  home,  sir,"  she  said 
lightly ;  "  but  hasten  to  the  end  of  your  story." 

"  Well,  madame,  I  rode  back  to  London  to  his  Grace  of 
Buckingham,  gave  him  the  papers,  and  set  myself  to  wait. 
Days  passed,  and  at  length  I  decided  to  return  hither  and 
tell  your  Highness  what  had  occurred,  and  the  very  morn- 
ing I  was  prepared  to  depart  I  was  summoned  to  White- 
hall to  his  Majesty.  News  had  come,  both  from  Vienna 
and  from  Sir  Henry  Wotton  out  of  Italy,  that  there  was 
something  afoot  against  your  Highness,  and  this,  taken 
with  the  papers  I  had  brought,  convinced  his  Majesty  of 
the  danger.  The  poison  is  ready,  madame  ;  Death  awaits 
you  at  Ratisbon,  or  wherever  you  visit  the  Imperial  Court." 

"  Have  you  no  letter  from  his  Majesty  ?  "  inquired  her 
Highness. 

"  Your  pardon,  madame !  "  Bell  answered,  "  I  have 
despatches  here.  Forgive  me ;  but  I  have  ridden  from 
Whitehall  in  six  days,  and  I  am  near  mad  with 
weariness." 

"  Sir,  I  thank  you  for  your  devotion,"  said  Elizabeth 
kindly,  "  and  I  will  not  go  to  Ratisbon  !  "  A  tear  stole 
down  her  cheek. 

"  Dear  my  heart !  "  whispered  Friedrich,  "  you  are  weary 
and  alarmed  by  this  fearful  thing.  Do  not  weep,  sweet 
madame,  you  are  safe  here." 

"  Nay,  I  but  give  a  tear  to  Fate,  who  always  prevents 
my  diverting  myself !  I  will  not  go  to  Ratisbon,  but  I  am 
mighty  loth  to  give  up  the  jaunt.  Good  lack  !  I  vow  I 
am  weary  of  safety  ! "  she  cried. 

Thus  it  fell  out  that  the  projected  journey  to  the 
Imperial  Court  did  not  take  place.  Once  more  life  at 
Heidelberg  resumed  its  peaceful  course ;  albeit  a  breath 
of  unrest,  an  unwonted  sense  of  some  unnamed  menace, 
seemed  to  brood  over  all.  The  hunts  and  banquets,  the 
long  quiet  days  of  drowsy  peace  went  their  accustomed 

G 


98  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

way,  and  no  events  of  importance  came  to  rob  Heidelberg 
of  its  easy,  bappy  security  of  commonplace,  familiar  life. 
And  yet,  from  tbe  bour  wben  Bell  had  interrupted  tbe 
dancing  in  tbe  Hall  of  Mirrors,  there  was  some  elusive 
hint  of  danger  and  change  underlying  the  stillness.  Louise 
Juliane,  during  her  frequent  visits  to  the  Castle,  felt  this 
undefined  menace ;  her  Highness  Elizabeth,  too,  was  aware 
of  it,  but  she  ascribed  it  to  the  restless  weariness  which 
prolonged  monotony,  even  of  ease,  breeds  in  "  a  living 
woman,"  as  she  said.  To  evade  this  irksome  sense  of 
pending  evil  she  flung  herself  even  more  than  of  yore  into 
gaieties.  There  was  hunting,  dancing,  play-acting,  and 
merry  journeys  to  Amberg ;  inspections  of  the  stronghold 
at  Mannheim  ;  secret  visits  to  Frankfurt,  where  her  High- 
ness went  disguised  in  a  burgher-dame's  sober  gown  of 
mokkadoe,  with  no  fardingale  but  ample  skirts,  and  on  her 
head  a  broad-brimmed  plain  hat,  and  to  hide  her  laughing 
face  her  black-velvet  mask.  This  latter  spoiled  the  disguise 
of  an  ordinary  burgher's  wife ;  but  in  the  crowded  narrow 
streets  few  stayed  to  notice,  and  if  they  did  observe  her, 
the  merchants  believed  that  she  was  some  patrician's  lady 
playing  her  naughty  pranks,  and  well  disguised  for  fear  of 
her  good  man's  ire. 

Yet  no  merrymaking  and  diversion  could  hide  from  the 
whole  Court  that  Prince  Friedrich  was  morose  and  anxious, 
and  that  each  day  his  confabulations  with  Master  Scultetus 
grew  longer.  Constantly  messengers  arrived  bearing  im- 
portant letters  from  all  parts  of  Europe,  and  often  the  grey 
dawn  came  through  the  windows  of  his  Highness's  writing- 
room,  and  peered  at  the  wan  young  face  bending  over  a 
pile  of  closely  written  sheets,  while  a  harsh-featured, 
black- clad  Calvinist  stood  near,  like  the  incarnation  of 
care  and  inexorable  purpose.  Above  this  writing-room 
was  a  chamber  where,  in  a  great  damask-hung  bed,  a 
woman  lay  asleep — so  the  dawn  saw — and  could  the 
peering  Dawn  have  looked  into  the  man's  heart,  she  would 
have  seen  that  he  laboured  and  intrigued  but  to  make 
this  woman  a  queen ;  though  had  the  Dawn  been  able  to 
read  the  man's  thoughts,  she  would  have  found  that  he 


THE  WEB  99 

called  his  lover's  ambition  by  the  name  of  Religion,  for  so 
did  the  heart  trick  the  brain. 

Small  marvel  that  Prince  Friedrich's  brow  was  clouded 
with  anxiety,  for,  as  Juliane  had  long  dreaded,  he  was  being 
steadily  sucked  into  the  whirlpool  of  European  intrigue. 
It  was  about  this  time  that  Count  Ernest  Mansfeld  came 
to  Heidelberg.  His  father  had  been  a  boon  companion 
of  Friedrich  IV.  of  the  Palatine,  but  the  bastard  Ernest 
Mansfeld  had  spent  years  in  the  service  of  many  masters, 
and  had  found  no  occasion  to  visit  Heidelberg,  the  abode  of 
peace.  War  was  his  art,  and  he  was  a  famous  and  skilful 
captain.  Her  Highness  Elizabeth  was  amused  and  attracted 
by  the  soldier  of  fortune's  recklessness,  and  he,  on  his 
side,  fell  a  victim  to  her  potent  charm.  She  named 
him  "  Monsieur  le  Brigand,"  and  he  rejoined  shrewdly 
that  a  brigand's  sword  was  sometimes  a  surer  friend 
than  many  a  prince's.  Old  Christian  of  Anhalt,  who, 
having  been  out  with  the  Palatine  troops  in  the 
Cleves-Julich  Succession  affair,  considered  himself  a 
great  captain,  though,  in  truth,  he  had  scarce  smelled 
the  scent  of  powder  and  carnage,  and  had  never  led  even 
a  company  into  battle — old  Anhalt  frowned  at  the  con- 
dottiere's  audacious  saying,  and  from  that  day  forward 
held  him  in  disfavour. 

The  Princes  of  the  Protestant  Union  were  frequent 
visitors  at  Heidelberg  at  this  time.  There  came  his 
Highness  the  Elector  of  Saxony,  rough,  uncouth,  a  devout 
lover  of  the  flowing  bowl,  and  a  very  Nimrod  of  the 
chase ;  but  when  for  an  hour  he  was  not  hunting,  nor  his 
brain  swamped  in  liquor,  he  was  a  shrewd,  unscrupulous 
man.  Even  in  his  cups  he  could  hold  long  theological 
discourses  with  Master  Scultetus,  and  high  words  were 
often  exchanged,  for  John  George  of  Saxony  was  a  con- 
vinced Lutheran,  and  he  hated  Calvinistic  dogma  almost 
more  than  the  doctrine  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  Caustic 
sayings,  too,  passed  between  him  and  old  Anhalt,  for  the 
Saxon  was  well  disposed  towards  the  House  of  Hapsburg, 
and  Anhalt  knew  no  measure  in  his  hatred  of  the 
"  Austrian  oppressors,"  as  he  named  them. 


100  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

The  Bohemians  had  offered  their  crown  in  1614  to  John 
George ;  but  the  Saxon,  partly  too  loyal  to  the  Emperor, 
partly  too  lazy  and  attached  to  his  drunken  ease,  or  per- 
chance too  wily,  in  or  out  of  his  cups,  had  refused  the  offer ; 
and  after  years  of  intrigue  by  all  par  ties,  Ferdinand  of  Styria 
had  at  length  been  crowned  King  of  Bohemia  in  1617. 

Another  personage  who  often  sojourned  at  Heidelberg's 
Court  was  Prince  Friedrich's  brother-in-law,  George 
William,  son  of  the  Elector  of  Brandenburg.  A  feeble, 
undistinguished  creature  this  Hohenzollern,  a  man  for 
ever  fearful  of  committing  himself.  "  Our  fond  brother 
sits  eternally  on  a  stile  between  two  fields,"  Elizabeth 
was  wont  to  say  of  him.  "  He  could  ne'er  be  a  foe  save 
through  fear  for  his  own  skin,  but  God  grant  I  may  never 
need  to  depend  on  his  friendship  ! "  Alas  !  it  was  destined 
that  she  should  turn  to  George  William  of  Brandenburg 
in  her  direst  need,  and  find  him  so  weak  a  friend  that  a 
generous  and  chivalrous  foe  would  have  stood  her  in 
better  stead. 

The  Princes  of  the  Union  were  much  occupied  with 
Bohemian  affairs,  and  Friedrich  of  the  Palatinate  in  especial 
concerned  himself  with  this  sorry  business.  Urged  by 
Scultetus,  he  had  repeatedly  sent  monies  to  aid  the 
Bohemian  church-builders,  and  he  had  secretly  encouraged 
the  malcontent  nobles  to  hope  for  his  help,  if  their  dis- 
affection towards  the  Emperor  should  end  in  open  revolt. 
In  fact  Heidelberg,  from  being  a  court  of  love  and  gaiety, 
had  become  the  gloomy  centre  of  Protestant  intrigue ;  and 
Friedrich,  feeble,  honest,  rash,  and  enthusiastic,  was  the 
unstable  pivot  whereon  the  machinations  of  Europe  turned 
— a  frail  pivot,  bent  for  ever  in  one  direction  by  a  strong, 
relentless  hand,  by  the  fierce,  bony  fingers  of  Scultetus,  the 
bigoted,  ambitious  Calvinist.  Wretched  pivot !  a  man 
with  a  heart  burning  with  a  woman's  beauty,  and  a 
weak,  ardent  soul  tortured  by  a  cruel  religion  ! 

Europe  was  a  maze  of  intrigue  at  this  time :  intrigues 
in  England  for  and  against  the  Spanish  match  between 
Prince  Charles  and  the  Infanta ;  France  intriguing  for  his 
marriage  with  a  French  princess ;  Holland  negotiating  for 


THE  WEB  101 

his  hand  for  a  German  highness ;  and  all  this  matrimonial 
web  around  the  actual  prizes  of  ducats,  religion,  power. 
The  Duke  of  Savoy  was  intriguing  to  become  emperor 
himself,  and  in  secret  documents  was  assigning  the  crown 
of  Bohemia  to  Prince  Friedrich ;  or  in  a  second  mysterious 
arrangement  he  allotted  Hungary  to  Friedrich,  besides 
Alsace  and  a  slice  of  Austria,  while  for  himself  he  de- 
cided to  take  Bohemia.  The  Catholic  princes  of  the 
League  also  amused  themselves  with  reportioning  Central 
Europe,  at  the  expense,  of  course,  of  the  Protestant  princes. 
And  all  these  plans  and  plots  were  brought  to  Heidelberg 
in  confidential  writings  and  by  secret  messengers  from  the 
Protestant  schemers,  and  by  spies  upon  the  Catholic  party. 
Openly  Europe  was  at  peace,  but  men's  hearts  were  black 
with  lust  of  power,  and  religion  fired  the  slime  of  greedy 
ambition  till  it  rose  up  in  a  boiling  vapour  and  hung  over 
the  world  as  a  lowering  cloud  of  war. 

For  many  months  the  talk  at  Heidelberg  had  been  of 
the  new  Protestant  churches  in  Bohemia.  Not  only  in  the 
council  chamber  with  Master  Scultetus,  but  at  the  banquet 
board  and  in  her  Highness's  presence  the  question  was 
endlessly  discussed. 

"  My  lord,  my  dear  lord  !  I  am  weary  of  Braunau  and 
Klostergrab  !  "  Elizabeth  cried  one  day.  But  the  shadow 
on  Prince  Friedrich's  brow  deepened,  and  her  Highness 
set  herself  to  listen  patiently. 

"  The  whole  future  of  Protestantism  depends  upon  the 
settlements  regarding  these  two  churches,  madame,"  Scul- 
tetus said. 

"  Tell  me,  then,  Hochwiirden ;  I  am  not  clear  as  to  the 
facts,"  she  answered  a  little  wearily.  It  was  a  grey,  un- 
friendly March  day,  and  the  wind  howled  dismally  round 
the  "  Dicke  Thurm  "  and  shook  the  windows  of  her  High- 
ness's  withdrawing  room.  Elizabeth  sat  at  her  embroidery 
frame,  and  Prince  Friedrich  had  drawn  a  low  tabouret  and 
sat  near  her.  A  log-fire  blazed  in  the  open  grate,  and 
Jacko  the  monkey  crouched  close  to  the  warmth.  Her 
Highness's  spaniel  lay  at  her  feet,  eyeing  Master  Scultetus' 
thin  legs  with  an  unfriendly  gaze.  Ever  and  anon  a  burst 


102  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

of  laughter   came   from   the    ante-chamber,  and  Prince 
Christel's  voice  was  heard  as  he  jested  with  the  courtiers. 

"  Your  highness  may  remember  that  the  Braunau  and 
Klostergrab  affair  has  been  playing  some  time  ?  "  Scultetus 
began. 

"  We  have  spoken  of  it  for  the  last  hundred  and  ten 
years,  methinks,  sir,"  Elizabeth  interrupted  lightly.  Scul- 
tetus stared  at  her  for  a  moment  in  a  puzzled  way ;  then 
his  stern  face  grew  sterner. 

"  This  is  no  laughing  matter,  madame,"  he  said  harshly. 
"  Our  persecuted  brethren  in  Bohemia " 

Again  she  interrupted. 

"  My  persecuted  brethren,  Master  Scultetus ;  they  are 
Lutherans  and  therefore  my  brethren.  Whatever  you 
may  be  to  the  Bohemians,  you  are  no  friend  to  German 
Lutherans,  sir  ;  your  Calvinistic  conscience  forbids  it ! " 

"  Your  Highness,"  he  answered  gravely,  though  a 
flush  of  embarrassment  glowed  on  his  lean  cheek,  "  your 
Highness,  the  cause  of  religious  freedom,  the  strife 
against  the  scarlet  woman  of  Rome,  enlists  our  united 
strength.  We  do  not  remember  the  errors  of  Luther 
when  we  are  fighting  side  by  side  with  Lutherans  against 
the  thrice-accursed  idolatry  of  Rome." 

"  Then,  sir,  I  am  to  understand  that  it  is  only  during 
times  of  peace  that  Calvinists  and  Lutherans  revile  one 
another ;  nay,  would  kill  each  other  an  they  could,"  she 
said  coldly. 

"  Alas,  madame,  we  fight  Luther's  lax  rule,  his  Popish 
ritual  which  the  Lutherans  have  retained  from  the 
hideous  ceremonies  of  olden  time.  But  when  Rome 
oppresses  we  must  needs  join  hands  to  fight  Antichrist," 
he  answered. 

"  Master  Scultetus,  a  Church  divided  against  itself  can 
never  conquer  a  Church  united,"  she  replied  quietly. 

"  The  Word  of  God  shall  triumph  in  the  end  !  When 
Romish  error  has  vanished  with  the  other  heathen  idola- 
tries, then  shall  the  pure  and  perfect  teaching  of  Calvin 
speak  so  plainly  to  the  misled  Lutherans  that  they  will 
voluntarily  renounce  their  errors,"  he  said.  Her  Highness's 


THE  WEB  103 

hand  fell  listlessly  from  her  embroidery,  she  leaned  her 
head  against  the  back  of  her  chair. 

"  I  am  no  theologian,  sir ;  I  beg  you  expound  the  history 
of  Braunau  and  Klostergrab,"  she  said,  and  a  sigh  of 
weariness  parted  her  lips. 

"  As  your  Highness  is  aware,  the  Protestants  of  Braunau 
had  built  a  tabernacle  unto  the  Lord.  The  Popish  abbot 
of  the  monastery  at  Braunau,  after  cruelly  persecuting 
the  builders,  denounced  them  to  the  Emperor.  His 
Majesty  handed  over  the  matter  to  the  Archbishop  of 
Prague.  This  servant  of  Belial  was  already  wickedly 
incensed  because  the  Lutherans,  relying  on  the  permission 
to  build  contained  in  the  Letter  of  Majesty  of  1609,  had 
builded  a  church  in  the  archbishop's  see  at  Klostergrab. 
First  the  iniquitous  prelate  caused  both  churches  to  be 
closed  and  the  doors  sealed  with  his  seal.  Then,  when 
our  oppressed  brethren  broke  into  their  own  churches  and 
preached  the  Word,  the  vile  archpriest  ordered  the 
churches  to  be  demolished.  In  three  days  the  sacred 
edifices  were  razed  to  the  ground — in  three  days  the 
work  of  years  was  destroyed  !  The  children  of  God  stood 
by  and  could  not  save  the  holy  buildings  from  the  wrath 
of  the  ungodly."  Scultetus  sprang  up  in  his  excitement ; 
raising  his  arm  in  a  gesture  of  menace,  he  shouted :  "  Ac- 
cursed be  the  destroyers  !  The  vengeance  of  God  be  upon 
them  ! "  With  a  snarl  her  Highness's  spaniel  rushed  at 
the  exalted  divine's  legs  and  buried  his  teeth  in  his 
Reverence's  black  gaiters. 

"  Curly,  come  here  !  Curly,  you  master-scoundrel, 
come  back  ! "  called  her  Highness,  but  the  little  brown  dog 
held  fast.  Scultetus  stood  trembling. 

"  Call  him  off,  madame,  for  Christ's  sake !  He  will  do 
me  a  hurt ! "  he  shrilled. 

"  Curly  —  will  you  come  ?  Oh !  you  little  monster, 
leave  hold  ! "  her  Highness  said,  but  her  voice  was  choked 
with  laughter.  "  He  will  not  hurt  you,  sir,  he  is  old  and 
his  teeth  are  weak ;  he  cannot  bite  through  your  gaiters. 
Curly,  come  here ! "  She  rose,  and,  catching  up  the  little 
dog,  gave  him  a  few  soft  taps  on  his  blunt  brown  nose. 


104  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Elizabeth,  like  all  the  Stuarts,  had  such  a  tenderness  for 
animals  that  even  when  she  punished  them  the  whipping 
seemed  to  be  a  series  of  caresses.  But  Curly  cowered  to 
her  breast  and  whined  piteously.  There  are  some  human 
souls  which  are  so  closely  knit  to  the  faithful  dogs'  souls 
that  there  is  no  need  for  blows  to  inflict  punishment ;  the 
patient  dependent  dog-soul  is  chastised  enough  by  the 
knowledge  that  that  wonderful  all-powerful  being  "his 
master  "  is  displeased. 

"  There,  sir,"  cried  Elizabeth  to  the  irate  preacher, 
who  stood  rubbing  his  gaitered  leg — "  there,  sir,  I  have 
punished  Curly  severely." 

"  Your  pardon,  Hochwiirden  !  "  said  Prince  Friedrich, 
"  but  indeed  her  Highness  has  beaten  the  offender  cruelly." 
He  laughed;  then, bending  close  to  Elizabeth, he  whispered: 
"  Curly  is  a  thief,  madame  ma  mie,  for  so  delicious  a 
beating  I  would  give  a  day  of  my  life." 

"  Dear  heart,  I  could  ne'er  beat  you  even  thus,"  she 
murmured,  with  a  glance  of  tenderness  at  Friedrich's  dark 
face. 

Peace  restored,  Master  Scultetus  recommenced  his 
story.  He  told  how  the  Bohemian  Protestants  had  ap- 
pointed commissioners,  styled  defenders,  to  negotiate  terms 
with  the  Emperor.  At  the  head  of  these  defenders  Count 
Thurn  had  repaired  to  the  Imperial  Court,  and  had  laid  a 
statement  of  the  Protestant  grievances  before  his  Majesty ; 
the  Emperor  had  given  as  answer  the  legal  quibble  that 
by  the  Letter  of  Majesty,  though  the  Protestants  were  en- 
titled to  build  on  Crown  land,  this  permission  did  not 
extend  to  the  building  of  "  heretical  barns "  on  lands 
rightfully  held  by  the  holy  Roman  Church.  Further,  his 
Majesty  had  announced  that  as  the  Bohemian  nobles 
claimed  the  right  of  appointing  both  pastors  and  cult  on 
their  estates,  he  would  henceforth  not  be  less  than  his  own 
nobles  and  would  force  the  true  religion  on  all  his  subjects. 

"  The  whole  of  Bohemia  is  smouldering  in  revolt,"  con- 
tinued Scultetus.  "  The  pastors  expelled  from  their 
parishes  on  Crown  lands  are  wandering  over  the  country 
seeking  refuge  on  the  estates  of  the  Protestant  nobles. 


THE  WEB  105 

The  peasants  are  fleeing  before  the  oppressor,  but  those 
who  have  not  deserted  their  homes  are  driven  to  the 
abominable  mass  by  Imperial  soldiers,  are  driven  before  the 
whip,  madame  ;  and  there  are  cases  where  the  soldiers  have 
thrown  away  their  whips  and  goaded  the  saintly  martyrs 
at  the  sword's  point.  Truly  the  children  of  God  have 
entered  into  the  house  of  bondage ! " 

"  And  these  are  good  peaceful  men  who  but  ask  for 
freedom  of  worship  ?  "  queried  her  Highness. 

"  Madame,  the  Bohemians  have  never  been  at  peace, 
for  they  have  always  been  oppressed,"  Scultetus  answered 
solemnly. 

"  But,  sir,  the  Emperor  Matthias  is  a  gentle,  peaceful 
man ;  doubt  you  that,  an  he  knew  aright  the  cruelties  prac- 
tised in  his  name,  he  would  not  show  mercy  ? "  she  asked. 

"  There  is  no  mercy  in  the  adherents  of  the  Church  of 
Satan,"  he  replied  harshly.  Her  Highness  sighed;  she 
doubted  if  an  abundance  of  mercy  was  stored  in  the 
Calvinist's  soul. 

"  Madame,  we  shall  see  if  the  Emperor  can  be  moved 
by  a  true  statement  of  the  case.  Three  weeks  ago  the 
defenders  summoned  a  meeting  of  the  Bohemian  Protes- 
tants, and  they  drew  up  a  document  which  will  be  pre- 
sented to  his  Majesty.  In  May  another  meeting  of  God's 
elect  is  to  be  convened  at  Prague  to  discuss  the  imperial 
answer,"  he  said. 

"  And  if  the  answer  is  unfavourable  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  War,  madame  !  War  for  our  conscience'  sake  !  With 
blood  we  will  avenge  the  unchristian  cruelties  of  our 
idolatrous  foes,"  he  said  sternly. 

"  Alas,  sir,  murder  for  Christ's  sake  ? "  she  said  in  a 
low  voice. 

"  The  meek  Saviour  shall  battle  with  us  for  the  truth, 
and  the  idolaters  shall  perish  and  burn  for  ever  in  the 
flames  of  hell .' "  he  cried  wildly.  Prince  Friedrich's  eyes 
glowed  with  a  fierce  light.  But  Elizabeth  Stuart  sighed, 

Protestant  Europe  awaited  the  Emperor's  answer 
anxiously.  It  was  whispered  that  if  his  Majesty  persisted 


106  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

in  his  course  of  oppression  of  the  turbulent  Bohemian 
Lutherans,  the  Protestant  Princes  of  the  Union  would  be 
obliged,  for  their  honour's  sake,  to  fly  to  arms  in  the  cause 
of  their  co-religionists.  More  moderate  men  objected 
that  the  Bohemians  were  an  unruly  race,  and  that  their 
religious  tenets  were  but  the  pretext  of  their  revolt  against 
the  hated  House  of  Hapsburg.  What  madness,  said  these 
wise  ones,  what  madness  to  plunge  Germany  into  warfare 
for  the  sake  of  a  handful  of  fanatical  malcontents  !  But 
there  were  other  voices  whispering  of  material  advantages 
to  the  Protestant  Princes  to  be  gained  by  a  religious  war 
with  Austria.  The  Duke  of  Bouillon  urged  his  kinsman 
Friedrich  of  the  Palatinate  to  wrest  a  kingdom  for  him- 
self out  of  the  Hapsburg  holding ;  and  the  Duke  of  Savoy 
intrigued  and  lusted  after  increase  of  power. 

Spring  came,  and  in  spite  of  Friedrich's  anxious  face, 
of  Scultetus'  sombre  words,  and  of  Duke  Christian  of 
Anhalt's  diatribes  against  the  House  of  Hapsburg,  the 
Court  of  Heidelberg  made  merry,  and  Elizabeth,  joying 
in  spring's  pageant,  laughed  and  jested,  forgetting  the 
cloud  which  hovered  over  the  world,  that  war-cloud  which 
hung  on  the  word  of  an  aged,  ailing  man,  on  the  yea  or 
nay  of  the  Emperor  Matthias  to  the  Bohemian  Lutherans. 
The  long,  low  hills  round  Heidelberg  were  blossom-crowned, 
the  castle  gardens  were  filled  with  the  fragrance  of  the 
first  roses,  the  quiet  Neckar  flowed  between  the  green 
banks.  Elizabeth  Stuart,  returned  from  her  ride  through 
the  woods,  stood  on  the  broad  terrace  overlooking  the  valley. 

"  What  a  peace  there  is  over  the  world  to-day,  Christel," 
she  said  to  young  Anhalt  as  she  drew  off  her  gauntlet 
and  stroked  the  spaniel  Curly's  head. 

"  It  is  very  beautiful,  cousin,"  Prince  Christian  an- 
swered ;  "  and  yet  my  father  would  have  me  leave  you 
and  go  seek  some  work,  some  soldier's  honour." 

"  But  where  would  he  have  you  go  ?  There  is  little 
doing  in  the  world  just  now,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 
"  Even  Mansfeld's  troops  are  lying  fallow." 

As  she  spoke  the  sound  of  loud  voices  broke  the  still- 
ness, and  Prince  Friedrich,  followed  by  Scultetus  and  Duke 


THE  WEB  107 

Christian,  came  through  the  archway  from  the  courtyard. 
The  Palsgrave's  face  was  flushed,  and  he  held  a  bundle  of 
papers  in  his  hand. 

"  News,  madame  !  "  he  cried  excitedly.  "  Splendid  news 
from  Bohemia  !  Our  brethren  have  defied  the  oppressor, 
and  now  the  Truth  shall  triumph." 

Elizabeth  glanced  at  Scultetus.  Though  it  was  Prince 
Friedrich  who  spoke,  she  recognised  the  words  as  an  echo 
of  his  Reverence's  utterances. 

"  Has  the  Emperor's  answer  arrived,  sir  ? "  she  said 
quickly. 

"  It  has  come,  and  our  answer  to  him  has  been  given — 
given  gloriously  ! "  cried  Friedrich. 

"  What  is  the  answer  ? "  she  asked,  and  her  breath  came 
fast  between  her  parted  lips. 

"  Death  gave  the  answer,  madame ! "  said  Scultetus, 
and  his  harsh  voice  sounded  as  a  knell.  Then  in  rapid 
words  he  told  the  story  of  the  Defenestration  at  Prague. 
He  told  how  the  news  had  come  to  Prague  that  the 
Emperor's  answer  was  uncompromisingly  hostile  to  the 
Lutherans ;  that  Count  Thurn,  receiving  this  information, 
had  convened  the  nobles  secretly,  and  that  in  this  assembly 
it  had  been  agreed  that  the  document  had  been  drawn  up 
at  Prague  by  the  hated  Lord  High  Justice  of  Bohemia, 
Slavata,  and  his  colleague,  Martinitz  Burggraf  of  Karl- 
stein,  and  that  the  Emperor  had  but  signed  this  mandate. 
The  Protestant  conspirators  had  unanimously  condemned 
these  imperial  agents  to  death  as  traitors  to  Bohemian 
liberty.  Early  in  the  morning  of  May  23rd  the  Imperial 
agents  had  assembled  in  the  Council  Hall  of  the  Hradcany 
at  Prague,  and  had  awaited  the  Protestant  noblemen. 
There  had  been  four  Emperor's  men,  to  wit :  Diepold  von 
Lobkowitz,  Grand  Prior  of  the  Order  of  Malta ;  Adam 
von  Steinberg,  the  premier  noble  of  Bohemia ;  the  hated 
Slavata,  and  Martinitz.  To  their  surprise,  when  the 
numerous  Lutheran  nobles  had  entered  the  hall,  they  had 
seen  that  they  had  come  fully  armed,  contrary  to  the  im- 
perial prescription  which  forbade  the  bearing  of  arms  in 
the  council  chamber.  Count  Thurn  had  opened  the  pro- 


108  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

ceedings  by  demanding  whether  the  mandate,  the  formal 
reading  whereof  he  and  his  associates  had  repaired  to 
hear,  had  been  written  in  Vienna.  Without  giving  the 
Imperial  Councillors  time  to  reply,  he  had  denounced  them 
as  traitors  to  Bohemia.  Then  in  thunderous  tones  he  had 
demanded  if  they  could,  on  their  oath,  affirm  that  the 
mandate  had  been  written  in  Vienna. 

With  dignity  the  Imperial  Councillors  had  replied  that 
they  were  bound  by  solemn  oath  never  to  divulge  the 
business  of  the  council.  Their  sole  duty  was  to  proclaim 
and  enforce  the  imperial  edicts. 

With  a  yell  of  fury  the  Lutherans  had  rushed  forward 
and  had  threatened  the  councillors  with  instant  death  if 
they  refused  to  answer.  After  a  few  moments'  whispered 
consultation  Lobkowitz  had  replied,  in  the  name  of  his 
fellow- councillors,  that,  yielding  to  overwhelming  numbers, 
they  would  give  answer  to  the  preposterous  question,  and 
their  answer  was  that  the  document  had  been  entirely 
drawn  up,  written,  and  signed  in  Vienna.  If  the  Lutherans 
desired  further  information  on  the  subject,  they  must 
journey  to  Vienna  and  interrogate  his  Majesty  himself. 

For  an  instant  the  hostile  crowd  of  nobles  had  hung 
back.  They  had  thought  to  have  proved  the  councillors 
to  have  been  the  authors!  of  the  mandate,  and  as  such  to 
have  condemned  them  to  instant  death  as  enemies  to 
Bohemia.  Now  Paul  von  Rican,  a  zealous  Lutheran,  had 
sprung  forward  and  had  reminded  the  assembly  how,  in 
1609,  Slavata  and  Martinitz  alone  of  all  the  Bohemian 
nobles  had  refused  to  sign  the  Bond  of  Peace  which  had 
been  agreed  to  and  signed  by  the  entire  Bohemian  nobility, 
both  Lutheran  and  Catholic.  This,  he  asserted,  was  suffi- 
cient proof  of  their  treason  to  Bohemia.  Again  the  deafen- 
ing clamour  had  arisen  from  the  Lutherans,  and  loud 
voices  demanded  the  execution  of  these  enemies  of  the 
nation. 

"  Alas !  that  '  der  Lange '  (the  Imperial  Chancellor 
Zdeneck  von  Lobkowitz)  is  not  here  to  share  their  fate !  " 
many  had  shouted.  But  fortunately  for  himself  the  Chan- 
cellor was  in  Vienna.  Now  Diepold  von  Lobkowitz  and 


THE  WEB  109 

Adam  von  Steinberg  had  been  forcibly  ejected  from  the 
council  chamber,  and  the  nobles  had  thrown  themselves 
upon  the  defenceless  Slavata  and  Martinitz.  Half  a 
hundred  daggers  had  been  at  their  throats  when  some 
one  had  cried  out  that  it  were  impious  to  stain  Bohemia's 
council  chamber  with  blood.  A  fearful  struggle  had 
ensued,  but  steadily  the  victims  had  been  dragged  to  the 
windows  overlooking  the  courtyard.  The  Imperial  Secre- 
tary Fabrizius  had  implored  Count  Schlick  to  show  mercy 
to  the  councillors,  but  the  wretched  underling  clerk,  for 
his  pains,  had  been  seized  and  dragged  towards  the  win- 
dows. Slavata  had  clung  desperately  to  the  ledge,  but 
his  assailants  had  ruthlessly  loosed  his  clinging  hands 
and  had  flung  him  down — down  a  hundred  feet  into  the 
courtyard  below.  From  another  window  Martinitz  had 
been  hurled  to  his  doom,  and  Fabrizius,  the  harmless, 
subordinate  clerk,  had  been  dashed  headlong  after  his 
masters.  For  an  instant  the  accomplishment  of  their 
design  had  sobered  the  fury  of  God's  gentle  Lutheran 
lambs.  But  their  righteous  wrath  had  broken  forth  again 
when  they  had  seen  the  Romish  criminals  crawl  away,  if 
not  unharmed,  at  least  alive. 

"  Dauntless  in  their  just  vengeance,"  cried  Scultetus, 
"  Count  Thurn  and  a  number  of  nobles  hurried  away  to 
complete  the  execution,  while  those  who  remained  at  the 
windows  fired  their  pistols  repeatedly  at  the  condemned 
traitors.  But  Martinitz  and  the  secretary  escaped,  and 
some  of  the  Chancellor's  servants  carried  Slavata  to  their 
master's  neighbouring  house.  Soon  Count  Thurn  and  his 
adherents  were  thundering  at  the  closed  doors.  A  window 
was  flung  open,  and  Dame  Polixena  von  Lobkowitz,  an 
abandoned  Romish  woman,  wife  to  the  iniquitous  Chan- 
cellor, appeared.  "  You  shall  kill  me  an  you  will,  but  I 
will  never  give  up  to  you  a  dying  man,  a  man  who  is  a 
friend  and  kinsman  to  you  as  to  me,"  she  said.  Thurn  in 
his  meek  Christian  mercy  gave  her  answer  that  justice  had 
been  done  if  the  traitor  Slavata  were  indeed  a  dying  man. 
She  cried  out  that  God's  angels  had  borne  up  Slavata  and 
saved  him  that  he  might  die  hi  peace  after  receiving  the 


110  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

sacraments  of  his  Church.  Angels  ! "  Scultetus  laughed 
hoarsely ;  "  Satan  himself  aids  the  Papists.  Know  you, 
madame,  what  saved  the  ungodly  in  their  fall  ?  A  dung- 
heap  !  There  was  a  dung-heap  beneath  the  windows  of 
the  Hradcany,  and  into  this  foul  bed  the  oppressors  fell 
soft ! " 

"  But  they  live,  master  ?  You  said  that  death  had  an- 
swered ?  "  her  Highness  queried  with  blanched  lips. 

"  Death  has  spoken,  though  by  Satan's  will  the  dying 
Slavata1  lived  to  taste  the  horrible  mockery  of  the  so-called 
sacrament.  Death  has  spoken,  nay,  more  !  Death  riding 
the  mighty  steed  of  War  rides  through  Bohemia.  Death 
crushes  the  heathen  and  deals  punishment  to  the  idolaters, 
to  the  votaries  of  Antichrist,"  he  thundered. 

"  Vengeance  on  the  House  of  Hapsburg  !  "  cried  Duke 
Christian  of  Anhalt,  and,  drawing  his  sword,  he  kissed  the 
blade  so  fiercely  that  his  mouth  left  a  trace  of  blood  upon 
the  steel. 

"  Honour  and  freedom  for  the  true  Faith  !  "  cried  Frie- 
rich,  and,  snatching  the  sword  from  Anhalt,  he  kissed  it 
reverently.  He  started,  and  with  a  stifled  exclamation  let 
the  sword  fall  to  the  ground  and  drew  his  hand  across  his 
face  ;  his  lips  had  touched  the  wet  stain  on  the  blade,  and 
the  taste  of  blood  was  bitter  in  his  mouth. 

"  Swear,  you  wanton  boy  ! "  roared  Anhalt  to  Prince 
Christel.  "  Swear  to  do  battle  in  this  holy  war  against  the 
accursed  Hapsburgs."  He  bent  and  raised  the  sword  from 
the  ground.  "  Swear  ! "  he  said  sternly,  and  held  the  blade 
to  his  son's  lips. 

"  Where  my  cousin  of  the  Palatinate  leads,  there  will  I 
follow  till  death,"  Christel  said,  and  his  blue  eyes  rested 
sadly  on  Elizabeth  Stuart  as  he  kissed  the  sword. 

1  As  a  fact  William  Slavata  lived  to  the  age  of  ninety,  and  wrote  in  the 
Bohemian  language  his  memoirs,  wherein  he  gave  his  version  of  the 
Defenestration,  and  a  bitterly  hostile  account  of  King  Friedrich's  reign. 
He  also  compiled  a  history  of  Bohemia  in  twelve  volumes. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  GREAT  WAR'S  PRELUDE 

"  Now  o'er  the  palsied  earth  stalks  Giant  Fear, 
With  War  and  Woe  and  Terror  in  his  train." 

— SHELLEY. 

DEATH,  riding  the  mighty  steed  of  War,  thundered 
through  Bohemia,  and  from  far  and  wide  came 
Death's  grim  servitors,  those  hordes  of  mercenary 
soldiers  whose  trade  was  bloodshed.  At  Heidelberg  mes- 
sengers from  the  insurgents  arrived  daily,  and  the  talk  of 
castle  and  of  town  was  endlessly  of  Bohemian  affairs.  The 
cloud  on  Prince  Friedrich's  brow  deepened,  and  her  High- 
ness vowed  that  she  had  lost  a  husband  and  found  a  gloomy 
statesman  in  his  stead.  She  jested,  but  what  irked  her 
was  the  haunting  feeling  that  there  were  projects  afoot 
which  Friedrich,  Master  Scultetus,  and  old  Anhalt  kept 
from  her  knowledge. 

One  night  Elizabeth  was  restless,  and  the  more  she 
wooed  the  god  of  sleep,  the  more  the  fiend  of  wakefulness 
tormented  her.  All  the  distorted  imaginings  which  lurk 
in  the  brain  to  torture  the  wakeful  came  to  her.  Was 
something  terrible  going  to  befall  her  ?  She  remembered 
the  old  saying  that  the  Stuarts  were  gifted  with  second 
sight.  Was  some  revelation  of  impending  doom  coming 
to  her  ?  She  recalled  the  Lady  of  Harrington's  calm  smile 
when  she  had  asked  her  if  this  mysterious  divination  lived 
in  the  Stuart  race. 

"  They  might  have  been  wiser  men  had  they  possessed 
it,  sweet  child  ;  but  God  in  His  mercy  withholds  all  know- 
ledge of  our  destiny.  Second  sight,  forsooth !  It  is  an 
old  wife's  tale,  and  contrary  to  both  religion  and  good 
sense,"  she  had  answered.  If  only  the  Lady  of  Harring- 
ton had  been  still  in  Heidelberg,  Elizabeth  would  have 


in 


112  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

gone  to  her  and  poured  out  her  doleful  ponderings,  and 
sure,  one  half-hour  of  her  placid  reasoning  would  have 
banished  all  forebodings.  But  Lady  Harrington  had  re- 
turned to  England.  Then  came  the  thought  of  her  beloved 
friend,  and  the  ever-present  sadness  of  her  death :  "  Anne, 
sweet  Anne  Dudley ! "  her  Highness  murmured,  "  it  was 
a  cruel  God  who  took  you  from  me.  I  need  you,  dear 
one  ! "  Impatiently  Elizabeth  threw  back  the  embroidered 
coverlet.  Mental  anguish  turned  to  physical  discomfort, 
and  she  felt  breathless  and  oppressed.  She  pushed  aside 
the  heavy  damask  curtain  of  her  bed  and  listened 
anxiously.  Silence  wrapped  the  world,  and  yet  some 
undefined  sense  of  stirring  haunted  her.  She  rose,  and 
feeling  her  way  through  the  darkness  to  the  window,  she 
opened  her  casement  and  leaned  out.  The  night  breeze 
wafted  the  scent  of  roses  to  her. 

"  How  still  it  is,"  she  whispered.  Below  her  the  ter- 
raced garden  seemed  to  dream  deliciously  in  the  white 
moonlight,  long  shadows  fell  athwart  the  pathways  from 
the  statues,  the  fountains  were  not  playing,  silence  reigned. 
For  some  time  Elizabeth  Stuart  leaned  out  of  her  case- 
ment, the  fragrant  night  air  calmed  her  restlessness,  and 
like  a  gentle  hand  sleep  weighed  down  her  tired  eyelids. 

"  I  shall  rest  now,"  she  told  herself ;  but  as  she  laid  her 
hand  upon  the  window,  meaning  to  close  it,  her  attention 
was  attracted  by  two  figures  which  were  moving  stealthily 
through  the  gardens.  Their  shadows  fell  black  and  gro- 
tesque on  the  whiteness  of  the  moonlit  pathway.  The  case- 
ment creaked  beneath  her  Highness's  touch,  and  she  saw 
how  the  men  started  and  drew  back  into  the  shadow  of  the 
terrace  wall.  After  a  moment  they  reappeared,  and  con- 
tinued their  silent,  cautious  progress.  It  struck  her  that 
one  of  the  newcomers  was  known  to  her.  Where  had  she 
seen  that  short,  thick-set  figure,  the  one  shoulder  hunched 
to  the  large  head  ?  Impossible  !  who  could  identify  a  man 
in  a  black  cloak  and  with  a  slouch  hat  crushed  down  on 
his  head  ?  They  were  close  beneath  her  now.  She  leaned 
eagerly  from  out  the  casement.  The  intruders  paused,  as 
though  they  waited  for  some  signal.  After  a  brief  moment 


THE  GREAT  WAR'S  PRELUDE     113 

they  passed  into  the  shadow  cast  by  the  "  English  Palace," 
where  she  was.  She  waited,  expecting  them  to  emerge 
again,  but  it  seemed  that  the  shadow  had  swallowed  them. 
Then  she  heard  the  click  of  a  key  turning  in  a  lock,  and 
immediately  afterwards  the  muffled  bang  of  a  carefully 
closed  door.  Her  Highness  started.  She  recognised  the 
sound  as  that  of  the  small  heavy  garden  door  leading  to 
that  portion  of  the  English  Palace  where  was  situated 
Prince  Friedrich's  dwelling.  What  sought  those  black- 
cloaked  strangers  at  dead  of  night  in  the  palace  ?  What 
meant  that  secrecy  ?  Who  had  admitted  them  ?  Who 
had  closed  the  door  so  carefully  and  stealthily  ?  Fear 
gripped  her  heart  and  sent  the  blood  surging  in  painful 
throbs  to  her  temples.  Conspiracy ! — Murder ! 

She  sprang  forward,  and  catching  up  a  velvet  cloak 
which  lay  on  a  chair  near  she  flung  it  round  her  and 
swiftly  fled  from  her  chamber  into  the  marbled  corridor. 
She  paused  to  listen.  Deep  silence ;  and  like  a  stifling 
pall  the  blackness  of  night !  Only  on  the  far  side  of  the 
courtyard  the  moon  peered  over  the  high  gables  of  the 
castle  and  shed  her  wan  light  upon  the  windows  of  the 
Otto  Heinrich's  Bau. 

Elizabeth  opened  the  narrow  door  onto  the  steep  wind- 
ing stairway  which  led  from  her  apartments  to  Friedrich's 
dwelling  rooms.  Darkness  enshrouded  her,  but  she  felt  her 
way  by  groping  against  the  rough  stonework  of  the  wall. 
When  she  reached  the  door  of  his  Highness's  antehall  she 
listened.  There  was  no  sound.  Her  knees  bent  beneath 
her  like  a  sick  woman's.  Those  cloaked  night-birds — 
those  stealthy  figures  were  in  the  palace,  here,  near  her, 
and  they  gave  no  sign.  She  wrenched  open  the  door.  Still 
no  light  and  no  sound. 

"  Friedrich  !  "  she  called,  and  she  heard  her  own  voice, 
weak,  tremulous,  hardly  above  a  whisper  though  she  had 
tried  to  call  loudly.  She  felt  her  way  across  the  room ; 
once  she  stumbled  heavily  against  a  chair. 

"  Friedrich ! "  she  called  again.  Her  eyes,  grown  used 
to  the  blackness,  noticed  now  a  faint  line  of  light  on  the 
threshold  of  his  Highness's  writing  closet ;  guided  by  it  she 

H 


114  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

found  her  way  to  the  door.  The  handle  turned  loosely  in 
her  grasp,  but  the  door  remained  fast.  Fear  made  her 
hands  feel  weak  and  limp,  yet  she  smote  on  the  panels 
fiercely. 

"  Friedrich  !  Are  you  there  ?  Open  !  Let  me  in  !  " 
she  cried.  For  an  instant  there  was  no  response ;  then 
she  heard  the  sound  of  a  footfall,  and  his  Highness's  voice 
answered  camly: 

"  What  would  you,  dear  heart  ?  I  am  at  work  with 
Master  Scultetus." 

"  Let  me  in ! "  she  called.  "  I  must  speak  with  you  ! " 
She  heard  the  hiss  of  a  whispered  consultation,  then  slowly 
the  inner  bolts  were  withdrawn  and  the  door  was  opened. 

"  Strangers  have  just  been  admitted  secretly,"  she  began 
hurriedly,  then  she  paused  as  her  eyes  fell  on  two  figures 
standing  in  the  shadow  beyond  the  circle  of  light  thrown 
by  the  waxen  tapers  on  the  table.  One  figure  moved 
forward. 

"  Your  Highness,  I  crave  forgiveness  for  this  nocturnal 
visitation,"  the  man  said. 

"  My  Lord  of  Mansfeld  ! "  she  cried  in  surprise.  "  Sir, 
why  do  you  come  like  a  thief  in  the  night  ?  "  She  saw 
how  Mansfeld's  eyes  sought  Prince  Friedrich's  as  if  in 
question,  and  how  they  both  half  turned  to  Scultetus  as 
though  seeking  advice. 

"  What  do  you  here  so  secretly  ?  What  is  afoot  ?  " 
she  cried  angrily.  "  I  will  not  be  banished  from  all  know- 
lege  as  if  I  were  a  prating  child.  What  is  your  errand, 
gentlemen  ?  "  she  added  in  a  haughty  tone.  Prince  Fried- 
rich  laid  his  hand  gently  on  her  arm. 

"  Count  Mansfeld  arrived  late — unexpectedly "  he 

began  in  a  timid,  uncertain  voice.  She  cast  him  a  scorn- 
ful glance. 

"  I  saw  these  gentlemen  arrive,  I  saw  the  secrecy  where- 
with they  were  admitted  !  Some  one  expected  them,  and 
helped  them  in  their  mysterious  entry !  It  was  so 
stealthily  done  that  I  feared  some  dark  conspiracy.  Tut, 
sirs  !  I  will  not  brook  such  slinking  in  my  house  !  Tell  me 
your  errand,"  she  commanded.  Scultetus  came  forward. 


THE  GREAT  WAR'S  PRELUDE  115 

"  Indeed,  madame,  these  are  affairs  of  State " 

"  And  no  matters  for  women's  meddling,"  interruped  old 
Anhalt  roughly. 

"  Women,  sir  ?  Women  !  Do  you  count  me  as  the  good- 
wife  of  a  burgher  ?  I  am  a  Princess  of  Great  Britain,  and 
mistress  of  this  my  Castle  of  Heidelberg,  I  would  have  you 
know  ! "  she  said  proudly,  and  there  was  that  in  her  tone 
which  had  rung  in  the  voice  of  another  Elizabeth,  she 
whom  men  had  named  "  King  Elizabeth  of  England." 

The  men  stood  silent,  abashed  by  her  vehemence.  The 
other  stranger,  who  had  hitherto  remained  half  hidden  in 
the  shadow,  came  forward.  He  bowed  obsequiously  to 
her  Highness,  and  spoke  rapidly  in  Latin  to  Master  Scul- 
tetus.  Elizabeth  caught  the  words  :  "  Princeps  Savoyae 
— mandat  confidentialiter " 

"  Nor  is  it  our  custom,  signor,"  she  said  sharply,  "  for 
strangers  to  gabble  before  me  in  a  tongue  they  believe  I 
do  not  understand."  An  angry  thought  flashed  through 
her  mind.  Why  had  her  father  forbidden  her  tutors  to 
teach  her  Latin  ?  She  remembered  James  the  Pedant's 
homilies  against  "  all  overlearned  lassies."  Of  a  truth,  the 
British  Solomon's  wisdom  was  mighty  unwise  in  daily  use. 

"  I  command  you  to  tell  me  your  errand,"  she  repeated. 
"  My  lord  count,  I  beg  you  to  tell  me."  Her  quick  in- 
stinct had  guessed  right ;  Mansfeld  was  the  only  one  of 
that  group  who  would  speak  out.  The  others  were  silenced 
by  many  considerations,  while  he,  the  condottiere,  having 
less  to  lose,  cared  less  for  concealment. 

"  It  is  only  the  purchase  of  a  brigand's  sword,  madame," 
he  said  lightly. 

In  a  flash  it  came  to  Elizabeth — the  meaning  of  this 
midnight  consultation,  the  sinister  import  of  Mansfeld's 
secret  presence,  the  reference  to  the  Duke  of  Savoy.  She 
had  thought  and  spoken  a  hundred  times  of  war,  of  the 
probability  of  a  vast  European  conflict,  but  now  the  horror 
of  the  actuality  of  war  touched  her  with  its  dread  import 
of  battle,  murder,  famine,  and  despair.  For  the  first  time 
she  realised  dimly  what  it  would  mean  to  her. 

"  We  need  no  brigand's  swords  in  peaceful  Heidelberg," 


116  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

she  said  quickly.  For  answer  Mansfeld  pointed  at  the 
chart  which  lay  spread  out  on  the  table.  "  Konigreich 
Boheim  "  was  written  thereon.  Mechanically  her  High- 
ness passed  her  fingers  across  the  parchment.  With  an 
exclamation  she  drew  back ;  her  hand  had  left  a  trace  of 
blood  upon  the  chart,  a  faint  line  of  red  from  "  Boheim  " 
into  the  portion  marked  "  Die  Pfalz." 

Prince  Friedrich  caught  her  hand  and  raised  it  to- 
wards the  light.  "  You  are  wounded,  beloved  ?  "  he  cried 
axiously.  She  glanced  at  her  hand. 

"  Probably  I  rasped  my  fingers  against  the  stairway 
wall  in  the  dark,"  she  said  indifferently.  "  That  is  an 
ugly  omen,"  she  added,  pointing  to  the  stain  on  the  chart. 

"  Your  Highness  has  already  spilled  her  blood  for  the 
sake  of  the  Faith,"  said  Mansfeld,  laughing. 

"Sir,  this  is  no  time  for  impious  jesting,"  interposed 
Scultetus. 

"  No,  Master  Scultetus,"  cried  her  Highness,  "  and  no 
time  for  secrecy  from  me.  I  know  right  well  wherefore 
my  Lord  of  Mansfeld  is  summoned  hither,  and  I  claim 
full  confidence  in  these  affairs,  which  concern  me  no 
less  than  his  Highness.  Believe  me,"  she  turned  with  a 
shrewd  smile  to  Mansfeld,  "  to  tell  a  woman  half  a  story 
is  dangerous  always ;  tell  her  everything,  trust  her,  and 
she  is  honourably  silent." 

Old  Anhalt  flung  out  his  hands  in  an  angry  gesture. 
To  him  the  whole  scene  was  puerile,  trifling,  incompre- 
hensible. His  life  was  centred  in  his  hatred  of  the  House 
of  Hapsburg,  and  he  feared  and  distrusted  women.  A 
man  with  his  soul  thus  passionate  with  hatred  is  im- 
possible for  a  woman  to  tamper  with.  But  the  other 
conspirators  were  different ;  they  felt  Elizabeth  Stuart's 
fascination,  they  were  compelled  by  it,  and  charm  be- 
gets confidence,  often  to  the  ultimate  discomfiture  of  the 
confider. 

The  negotiations  were  continued  in  her  Highness's 
presence.  It  appeared  that  the  Duke  of  Savoy  proposed 
to  sell  Mansfeld  and  some  two  thousand  well-armed, 
thoroughly  trained  troops.  Prince  Friedrich  undertook 


THE  GREAT  WAR'S  PRELUDE  117 

to  bear  the  chief  cost  of  the  campaign,  and  to  pay  Savoy 
his  price  for  ceding  Mansfeld  and  his  small  army.  None 
doubted  the  rebels'  ultimate  victory,  as  it  was  reckoned  that 
if  the  enterprise  were  once  well  commenced,  not  only  all 
the  Princes  of  the  Protestant  Union,  but  England,  Holland, 
and  the  Venetian  Republic  would  join  forces  for  the  over- 
throw of  the  Hapsburgs  and  the  triumph  of  the  Reformed 
Faith.  Then  Friedrich  would  become  King  of  Bohemia, 
and  Savoy  would  annex  Moravia  and  Silesia.  The  ques- 
tion of  the  Imperial  purple  was  left  undetermined,  but  it 
was  tacitly  understood  that  either  Savoy  or  Prince  Fried- 
rich  would  become  Emperor  after  the  death  of  Matthias. 
In  either  case  entire  freedom  was  promised  to  the  Re- 
formed Churches,  both  Calvinistic  and  Lutheran.  It 
appeared  that  most  of  the  Princes  of  the  Protestant  Union 
were  favourable  to  this  project,  but  it  was  also  evident 
that  only  Prince  Friedrich  had  gone  further  than  mere 
talk ;  only  Friedrich  had  given  arms  and  money  to  the 
Bohemian  insurgents ;  only  he  and  Savoy  knew  of  Mans- 
feld's  participation  in  the  Bohemian  revolt.  It  was  a  far 
different  thing  for  Savoy,  an  independent  Italian  prince, 
to  enter  into  this  intrigue ;  for  him  there  was  everything 
to  be  gained  and  nothing  to  lose ;  whereas  Friedrich, 
Prince  of  the  Empire,  risked  all,  for  in  case  of  defeat  he 
stood  in  danger  of  the  ban  of  the  empire,  which  meant 
the  forfeiture  of  his  Electorate  and  of  his  possessions. 
This  Friedrich  set  forth  in  halting  words  that  night,  but 
Scultetus,  ever  ready  to  play  on  the  ardent  heart  of  his 
pupil,  spoke  of  the  advantages  to  the  Reformed  Church, 
of  how  the  Princes  of  the  Protestant  Union,  for  very 
shame,  could  never  abandon  their  brethren  in  Faith ;  and 
Friedrich's  enthusiasm,  as  usual,  took  fire,  fed  by  this 
fuel,  while  the  real  and  ever  smouldering  spark  was  his 
unspoken  ambition  to  crown  Elizabeth  queen.  So  the 
pact  was  signed  and  sealed,  and  Mansfeld  despatched  to 
Bohemia. 

That  summer  good  news  came  to  Heidelberg,  Count 
Thurn,  commander-in-chief  of  the  Bohemian  forces,  laid 
siege  to  Budweis,  and  took  the  town  of  Krumau.  The 


118  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

nobles  of  Austria,  for  the  most  part  Protestant,  refused 
passage  to  the  Hapsburg  army,  and  it  was  August  before 
Bucquoi  led  the  Imperial  troops  through  Moravia  into 
Bohemia.  Moravia  was  half-hearted,  for  although  a  Pro- 
testant land  it  was  entirely  swayed  by  Zerotin,  a  Protestant 
too,  but  a  faithful  adherent  of  the  Hapsburgs.  The  cam- 
paign went  all  too  slowly  for  the  ardent  schemers  at 
Heidelberg,  and  the  summer  passed  without  any  decisive 
action.  Bucquoi  and  the  Imperial  army  sought  battle, 
but  Count  Thurn  and  his  Bohemians  hung  back,  feeling 
themselves  too  weak  in  numbers.  Bohemia,  supporting 
two  armies,  was  given  over  to  rapine  and  famine.  Septem- 
ber came  and  there  was  still  no  change,  then  in  October 
the  Silesians  decided  to  espouse  openly  the  Bohemian 
cause ;  and  then,  at  last,  in  November  Bucquoi  was  de- 
feated by  Thurn  near  Budweis ;  and  on  the  heels  of  the 
welcome  messenger  who  brought  this  news  to  waiting 
Heidelberg  came  another  rider  with  despatches  telling 
how  Mansfeld  had  captured  the  town  of  Pilsen.  It  was 
glorious  news ;  for  Bucquoi,  now  cut  off  from  Vienna,  was 
a  victim  waiting  to  be  crushed  by  those  two  giant  hands, 
Thurn  and  Mansfeld.  Glorious  news  again !  Thurn  had 
invaded  Austria.  He  had  left  troops  to  watch  over  the 
defeated  Bucquoi,  and,  counting  on  the  support  of  the 
disaffected  Austrian  nobility,  he  was  marching  to  Vienna. 
The  doom  of  Hapsburg  seemed  assured,  and  old  Anhalt, 
drunk  with  vengeance  on  the  hated  House,  already  spoke 
of  the  glory  of  the  coming  Protestant  empire ;  and  Scul- 
tetus  fed  Friedrich's  vision  with  word  pictures  of  Elizabeth 
Stuart  as  the  first  Protestant  empress. 

But  Death  had  not  sated  his  lust  with  the  few  Bohemian 
battles.  It  was  not  enough,  and  Death  dismounted  his 
grim  steed  of  Warfare,  and  dipping  his  dread  sickle  into 
the  poison  of  disease,  mowed  down  the  flower  of  the 
Bohemian  army.  Austria  was  better  served  by  typhus 
than  by  Bucquoi.  Consternation  reigned  in  Heidelberg 
when  these  tidings  came.  Messengers  arrived  almost  daily 
with  accounts  of  the  fearful  condition  of  the  Bohemian 
army — famine-stricken,  unpaid,  decimated  by  disease,  It 


THE  GREAT  WAR'S  PRELUDE     119 

was  said  that  each  day  hundreds  died  of  typhus.  Gloom 
settled  over  Heidelberg,  town  and  castle.  Heavy,  ener- 
vating weather  added  to  the  general  depression ;  it  was  as 
though  the  whole  country  waited  for  something — for  what 
no  man  knew.  It  was  "  thunder  weather,"  as  the  peasants 
said,  but  no  storm  came  to  relieve  the  tension.  For  weeks 
the  skies  lowered  sunless,  unsmiling ;  and  yet  each  evening, 
at  what  should  have  been  set  of  sun,  a  dull  glow  as  of  a 
smouldering  furnace  lit  the  heavens  to  a  sombre  glory. 
They  said  that  there  were  evil  omens  abroad.  Had  not 
the  smithy's  cow  borne  a  calf  with  three  heads  ?  Had 
not  an  eagle  flown  against  the  castle  flagstaff  and  fallen 
dead  ?  This  foreboded  ill,  for  who  did  not  know  that  the 
three-headed  calf  symbolised  famine,  disease,  and  ruin  ? 
None  had  seen  the  monstrous  beast,  but  it  had  been  born, 
they  said,  for  all  that.  And  the  eagle  ?  Ah  !  that  meant 
death  to  the  owner  of  Heidelberg  Castle.  Then  a  sentry 
told  how  he  had  heard  a  moaning  voice  in  the  castle  moat 
at  dead  of  night.  All  knew,  too,  that  Van  Somer's  picture 
of  her  Highness  as  a  little  maiden  had  fallen  from  the 
wall,  though  both  the  nails  and  the  cord  which  had  held 
the  frame  were  sound  and  strong.  This  presaged  that 
her  Highness's  happy  youth  was  ended,  and  that  disaster 
would  soon  come  to  her. 

Prince  Friedrich  and  her  Highness  knew  of  these 
dismal  sayings,  and  though  they  vowed  them  to  be  but 
impious,  foolish  talk,  a  little  fear  was  mingled  in  their 
anxiety. 

One  autumn  evening  her  Highness  sat  before  her 
'broidery-frame  in  her  living-room  in  the  English  Palace. 
She  was  weary  and  oppressed,  for  she  was  approaching 
near  to  the  time  of  her  third  confinement.  Amalia  Solms 
was  patiently  disentangling  a  silken  skein  which  Curly,  the 
spaniel,  had  played  with.  Prince  Christel  sat  near,  and  on 
his  knee  lay  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  "  History  of  the  World," 
but,  though  he  turned  the  pages,  he  was  not  reading. 
There  was  too  much  a-happening  in  the  world  just  then  for 
thought  to  be  given  to  the  histories  of  bygone  struggles, 
As  usual  the  talk  was  of  Bohemia  and  the  revolt, 


120  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  And  so  Thurn  is  to  return  to  Bohemia  !  Good  lack ! 
he  hath  gained  little  by  wandering  with  his  troops  over 
half  Austria.  Better  had  he  followed  Bucquoi  and  finished 
his  conquest,"  said  her  Highness  musingly. 

"  Thurn  had  counted  on  the  Austrian  Protestants  rising 
in  a  body  and  marching  with  him  against  the  Imperialists. 
Half-hearted  loons !  But  we  can  gauge  their  promises 
now,"  replied  Christel. 

"  Surely  your  Grace  must  yearn  to  be  in  the  thick  of  the 
fight  ? "  queried  the  Solms  in  her  nasal  voice. 

"  Gracious  Amalia,  I  obey  orders  by  staying  here,"  he 
answered  quietly,  though  his  cheek  flushed. 

"  Oh,  Amalia,"  cried  Elizabeth  Stuart  impatiently,  "  it 
is  not  what  you  say  which  often  angers  me ;  it  is  your 
attitude  of  mind,  your  constant  judgment  of  what  does 
not  concern  you  which  makes  you  so  sorry  a  friend." 

"  I  regret,  your  Highness ,"  began  the  Solms  in  an 

offended  tone. 

Elizabeth  interrupted  her  hastily.  "  Oh,  for  the  dear 
God's  sake  cease  regretting  !  You  tread  on  people's  toes 
and  think  you  have  eased  their  bruise  by  your  regrets, 
but  the  toes  ache  for  all  your  '  Ach  !  pardons  ! '  "  Elizabeth 
said  half  angrily,  half  laughingly. 

"  Really,  your  Highness,  I  do  not  comprehend ," 

began  the  Solms  again. 

"  Ah,  my  dear,  and  that  which  we  do  not  comprehend 
in  such  things  no  angel  of  God  can  teach  us,  methinks," 
broke  in  her  Highness ;  "  now,  dear  Amalia,  go  to  my  other 
ladies.  I  will  call  you  anon — an  I  need  you."  The  offended 
damsel  retired. 

"  The  Countess  Amalia  means  I  should  be  with  Mans- 
feld,"  said  Christel,  "  and,  sweet  cousin,  God  knows  I  wish 
I  were." 

"  If  you  went  now  it  would  show  the  whole  world  how 
deeply  implicated  we  are  in  the  Bohemian  revolt,"  she 
answered.  "  Nay,  we  will  all  fight,  if  Dohna  returns  out 
of  England  with  good  news  of  my  father's  intentions." 

They  fell  to  talking  of  the  English  mission.  Dohna  had 
been  despatched  to  Whitehall  to  ascertain  whether  King 


THE  GREAT  WAR'S  PRELUDE  121 

James  intended  to  abide  by  his  compact  with  the  Princes 
of  the  Union,  and  to  contribute  troops  and  monies  in  the 
event  of  open  hostilities  between  the  Catholic  and  Pro- 
testant parties.  As  usual  James  procrastinated.  In  spite 
of  his  promises  he  was  unwilling  to  commit  himself,  for 
he  feared  to  spoil  the  chances  of  the  Spanish  alliance  for 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  if  he  openly  espoused  the  Protestant 
cause.  In  the  face  of  the  violent  opposition  of  the  Puritans, 
and  indeed  of  all  England,  to  the  Spanish  match,  James 
clung  to  the  idea.  Partly  the  Infanta's  dowry  allured 
him ;  partly  he  regarded  the  House  of  Hapsburg  as  the 
most  distinguished  and  magnificent  in  Europe,  and  it 
flattered  his  vanity  to  mate  his  son  with  a  Hapsburg 
princess.  Also  he  was  the  plaything  of  that  astute 
diplomatist,  the  Spanish  ambassador,  Gondomar,  who 
knew  that  Protestant  Europe  stood  waiting  for  England's 
weight  to  be  thrown  into  the  political  scales,  and  that 
while  James  hesitated,  though  the  balance  might  oscillate, 
the  actual  overturning  from  peace  to  war  would  be  averted. 
Meanwhile  Spain,  Austria,  and  Bavaria  grew  daily  stronger 
and  more  prepared  for  war.  It  may  be  imagined  Dohna 
had  no  easy  task,  and  he  wrote  in  despair  that  he  could 
get  no  answer  from  James.  His  hands  were  tied,  for  as 
yet  he  durst  make  but  scant  mention  of  Prince  Friedrich's 
dreams  of  the  Bohemian  crown,  and  thus  when  he  ap- 
proached James  or  Buckingham  with  his  question  of  what 
England  would  do,  he  was  easily  silenced  by  the  statement 
that  there  was,  and  would  be,  no  war.  Why  should  there 
be  ?  What  should  bring  war  about  ? 

For  the  nonce,  even  among  the  Heidelberg  statesmen, 
the  Bohemian  project  was  not  openly  mentioned,  though 
the  subject  was  the  ordinary  gossip  of  all  the  Courts  and 
towns  of  Europe.  Even  her  Highness  and  Christel  did 
not  speak  of  it ;  in  fact,  it  seemed  to  be  but  a  far-off  eventu- 
ality to  them.  They  discussed  Dohna's  mission  and  the 
likelihood  of  the  Spanish  marriage ;  and  while  they  spoke 
Christel's  deft  fingers  were  busy  with  a  pencil,  drawing 
the  pattern  of  Elizabeth's  wide,  puffed  sleeve  on  the  margin 
of  a  page  of  "  The  History  of  the  World."  Her  Highness 


122  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

broke  off  in  the  political  discussion  with  an  exclama- 
tion: 

"  Christel,  you  wicked  one ! "  she  cried,  "  you  spoil  the 
book  my  father  sent  me  out  of  England.  See  now  !  my 
sleeve  portrayed  opposite  the  solemn  recital  of  Hannibal's 
wars ! " l 

She  drew  the  book  towards  her  as  he  held  it  out  laugh- 
ing. "  Really,  Christel ! "  she  said  merrily,  "  think  of  my 
father's  ire  an  he  knew  ! " 

"  Ah !  cousin,  even  the  hem  of  your  sleeve  is  dearer  to 
me  than  all  the  wisdom  in  the  '  History  of  the  World,' " 
he  said. 

"  Christel,  you  are  a  foolish  dear  one,"  she  answered, 
smiling. 

At  this  moment  a  page  appeared  in  the  doorway.  "  His 
Highness  bids  me  inform  you,  inadame,  that  a  deputation 
from  Bohemia  has  arrived,  and  that  his  Highness  will  be 
occupied  with  State  affairs  till  late  this  night,  and  begs 
you  to  hold  him  excused  from  attending  upon  you  this 
evening."  The  boy  delivered  his  message,  bowed,  and 
retired. 

"  State  affairs,"  said  her  Highness.  "  Ah,  well !  God 
grant  they  may  bring  us  good  some  day." 

Silence  fell  between  Elizabeth  and  Christel.  In  the 
courtyard  the  clock  struck  the  hour  heavily. 

"  It  grows  late,"  her  Highness  said.  "  Friedrich  and  his 
Bohemians  will  consult  till  midnight.  Good  night,  dear 
Christel."  She  pushed  away  her  embroidery  frame  and 
rose.  "  Draw  back  the  curtain,  cousin,  and  see  if  it  rains." 

As  she  spoke  hurried  footsteps  rang  out  on  the  marble 
floor  of  the  corridor.  The  door  was  flung  open  and  Prince 
Friedrich  burst  into  the  room. 

"  It  has  come  at  last !    A  definite  offer  ! "  he  cried  breath- 

1  In  the  British  Museum  there  is  a  copy  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  "  History 
of  the  World  "  which  belonged  to  Elizabeth  Stuart.  On  the  margin  of  page 
417,  opposite  to  the  recital  of  Hannibal's  wars,  is  a  faint  drawing  of  a 
woman's  arm  and  hand.  The  sleeve  matches,  in  all  particulars,  that  in 
Mierevelt's  picture  of  the  Queen  of  Bohemia.  This  book  was  left  at  Prague 
by  the  Queen,  and  was  brought  to  England  in  1682  by  a  Jesuit  priest,  as 
is  set  forth  on  the  flyleaf  in  a  Latin  inscription. 


THE  GREAT  WAR'S  PRELUDE  123 

lessly.  His  cheeks  were  flushed  and  his  brown  eyes  glowed 
with  excitement. 

"  What  has  come  ?  Who  offers  ? "  began  her  Highness 
in  surprise. 

"  The  offer  of  the  Bohemian  throne  ! "  he  answered  im- 
patiently. "  They  have  elected  me — in  secret  still,  but 
they  have  decided  to  elect  me  !  Queen  of  my  heart,  how 
sweet  to  crown  thee  queen  in  the  sight  of  all  men !  No 
longer  '  Goody  Palsgrave,'  as  your  mother  said  ! "  He  was 
very  young  and  winning  in  his  boyish  enthusiasm.  The 
sombre  influence  of  Calvinism,  the  shadow  which  in- 
trigue and  anxiety  had  cast  over  him  for  long  months 
seemed  to  have  fallen  from  his  soul,  and  he  was  only  the 
proud  lover,  eager,  yearning  to  proclaim  his  lady  a  queen. 
Elizabeth  stood  silent  for  an  instant. 

"  Care  you  not  for  a  throne,  dearling  ? "  Prince  Friedrich 
said.  The  flush  faded  from  his  weak,  sensitive  face,  and 
the  radiance  of  his  eyes  waned.  As  usual  with  him  it 
needed  but  a  look  or  a  word  to  dash  his  exultation  to 
hesitancy  and  despondence. 

"  It  is  not  settled  yet — I  fear  there  is  desperate 
risk  —  perchance  I  ought  to  refuse,"  he  said  slowly. 
Elizabeth's  eyes  flashed  and  she  drew  herself  to  her  full 
height. 

"  He  who  has  wed  a  king's  daughter  must  have  courage 
to  climb  the  steps  of  a  throne  however  slippery  they  may 
be  ! "  she  said  haughtily.  Once  more  Friedrich's  enthusi- 
asm flamed. 

"  You  are  right,  and  it  shall  ne'er  be  said  that  I  feared 
kingship ! "  he  cried.  "  I  vow  to  accept  the  crown  of 
Bohemia ! " 

Christel  had  stood  silent  and  embarrassed  while  these 
words  passed  between  his  cousins ;  he  now  moved  to  the 
window,  remembering  Elizabeth's  request  that  he  should 
see  if  it  rained.  He  drew  back  the  heavy  curtain.  Flood- 
like  a  strange  white  glare  lit  the  room,  making  the  candle- 
flames  seem  like  tiny  pinnacles  of  yellow  light.  Both  Eliza- 
beth and  Friedrich  turned  in  surprise  towards  the  window. 
There  was  something  ghastly  in  the  sudden  white  light.  It 


124  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

blanched  Elizabeth's  cheeks  to  deathliness,  and  Prince 
Friedrich's  face  seemed  like  a  yellow,  waxen  mask. 

"  What  is  it,  Christel  ? "  cried  her  Highness.  "  What  is 
this  flare  ? "  Christel  opened  the  casement  and  leaned  out. 
A  discordance  of  sound  came  through  the  open  window  : 
cries  and  hoarse  shouting,  the  frantic  ringing  of  bells,  and 
over  all  the  long-drawn  moan  of  a  rising  tempest.  A  gust 
of  wind  swept  through  the  casement  and  abased  the  candle 
wicks  to  shuddering  back-bent  sheets  of  flame,  and  then 
extinguishing  them,  left  the  room  lit  only  by  the  lurid  glare 
from  without.  Christel  clung  to  the  casement  frame,  en- 
deavouring to  pull  the  window  shut,  but  the  wind  tore  it 
from  his  grasp  and  dashed  it  back  against  the  palace  wall. 
The  second  door  of  her  Highness's  room  was  thrown  open, 
and  her  affrighted  ladies  hurried  in. 

"  Madame  !  oh,  madame  !  it  is  the  end  of  the  world  !  " 
wailed  Amalia  Solms. 

"  Be  silent ! "  commanded  her  Highness  sharply.  Chris- 
tel now  succeeded  in  closing  the  casement,  and  the  gale, 
with  its  accompaniment  of  panic  sounds  thus  shut  out, 
smote  but  faintly  on  the  hearing. 

"  Is  there  a  conflagration  in  the  town  ? "  asked  Prince 
Friedrich.  But  none  could  answer  him.  Now  Count 
Schomberg  stood  on  the  threshold.  His  face  was  grave 
and  white. 

"  Your  Highness,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  there  is  tumult 
in  the  town.  A  monstrous  luminary  hath  appeared  in 
the  sky ;  it  is  like  a  giant  finger  of  flame  pointing  at  the 
castle.  The  people  are  crying  out  that  it  is  God's  scourge 
stick  sent  to  warn  us  of  Almighty  wrath  and  vengeance. 
The  people  believe  it  is  hi  punishment  of  your  friendli- 
ness with  the  Bohemian  rebels.  Thousands  of  men  have 
forced  their  way  across  the  outer  bridge ;  I  do  not  know 
whether  they  found  the  gate  open,  or  whether  the  sentries 
in  their  panic  let  them  in." 

Prince  Friedrich,  as  usual,  stood  irresolute.  His  whole 
being  was  like  a  tarred  beacon,  which  needs  the  spark  from 
another's  fire  to  kindle  the  dormant  flame  of  courage  and 
activity. 


THE  GREAT  WAR'S  PRELUDE     125 

"  What  can  be  done  ?  Where  is  Scultetus  ?  "  he  said 
weakly.  Some  one  hurried  away  to  fetch  the  preacher. 

And  now,  even  through  the  closed  windows,  and  louder 
than  the  yell  of  the  wind,  came  the  steady  roar  of  many 
voices  and  the  tramp  of  thousands  of  feet. 

Old  Anhalt  pushed  his  way  through  the  group  of 
wailing  women  in  the  doorway. 

"  The  townsfolk  are  in  revolt,"  he  cried ;  "  they  are 
clamouring  at  the  inner  gates.  I  have  ordered  the  guard 
to  fire  on  them  if  they  do  not  disperse." 

"  In  revolt  ?  My  Heidelbergers  !  It  is  incredible  ! " 
said  Friedrich. 

"  Revolt ! "  cried  Elizabeth ;  "  they  are  mad  with  fear ! 
Open  the  gates — let  them  in — let  us  show  them  that 
whatever  befalls  we  are  with  them  !  You,  my  lord,"  she 
added,  turning  to  Friedrich,  "you  go  and  speak  with 
them." 

At  this  moment  Scultetus  appeared  on  the  scene. 
Prince  Friedrich  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"  Will  you  speak  to  the  citizens  ?  I  know  not  what 
to  say,"  he  said. 

"Nor  I,  your  Highness — they  are  riotous  loons,"  the 
Calvinist  answered.  Elizabeth  Stuart  flung  up  her  hands. 

"  The  Lord  have  mercy  upon  you  ! "  she  cried  angrily. 
"  Must  you  all  hesitate  until  a  real  revolt  is  upon  us  ? 
Tell  the  people  that  it  is  our  will  to  share  their  fate 
whatever  it  may  be !  Tell  them  that  this  strange  star 
is  another  moon  sent  to  guide  our  feet  unto  peace — 
through  warfare  into  peace !  Tell  them  anything  you 
like,  but  tell  them  something !  They  will  believe  you — 
only  do  not  stand  there  doing  nothing ! " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  Master  Scultetus,  you  hear  ?  Her  High- 
ness is  right — you  must  calm  them — they  are  good 
people ! "  said  Prince  Friedrich  hurriedly.  "  Open  the 
gates  !  His  reverence  will  speak  with  the  citizens ! " 

"  Summon  them  to  the  chapel !  God's  minister  must 
speak  to  his  flock  from  the  pulpit,"  said  Scultetus. 

The  gates  were  opened,  and  the  mob  poured  across  the 


126  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

inner  drawbridge,  where  Prince  Christel,  Count  Schoin- 
berg,  and  the  other  gentlemen  shouted  to  them  that 
Master  Scultetus  awaited  them  in  the  chapel,  and  that 
he  would  tell  them  what  they  craved  to  know. 

It  was  a  strange  scene  enough.  The  lurid  glare  in  the 
sky  lit  the  world  to  a  horrible  false  daylight.  The  mass 
of  terror-stricken  burghers  swayed  and  surged  in  the  large 
courtyard  in  silence  now.  Those  who  were  in  the  front 
of  the  crowd  jostled  each  other  frantically,  as  though  their 
only  chance  of  salvation  lay  hidden  in  the  small  chapel. 
From  below  in  the  town  came  the  ringing  of  bells  and 
the  clamour  of  a  fear-ridden  multitude ;  while  from  the 
wild  animals'  cages  in  the  disused  moat  came  the  roar  of 
the  lions,  roused  from  their  sleep  to  fury  and  alarm  by 
the  unnatural  light.  And  over  all  was  the  long-drawn 
wail  of  the  wind — that  wind  which  rushed  beneath  a 
clear  and  cloudless  sky. 

In  the  chapel  the  Calvinist  preacher  poured  forth  a 
torrent  of  words.  He  affirmed  the  new  luminary  to  be 
in  very  truth  the  rod  of  Almighty  wrath  threatening  the 
oppressors  of  Christ's  elect.  It  was  a  portent  of  coming 
vengeance  on  the  tyrant  who  trampled  on  the  children 
of  God  in  Bohemia.  An  ominous  murmur  greeted  the 
mention  of  Bohemia. 

"  Why  should  we  suffer  for  the  sake  of  the  Bohemians?" 
cried  an  aged  citizen. 

"  What  has  Bohemia  to  do  with  us  ? "  muttered  others. 
"  We  will  have  no  more  to  do  with  rebels."  The  flood 
of  words  rose  steadily  to  a  hoarse  groan  of  menace  ;  gather- 
ing force  like  an  advancing  wave,  it  broke  into  a  fierce 
roar.  "  We  want  peace — our  rightful  peace — here.  We 
will  have  nought  to  do  with  Bohemia.  Down  with  the 
instigator  of  war  !  Death  to  the  preacher  of  destruction  ! 
Down  with  Scultetus,  who  has  brought  God's  vengeance 
upon  us ! "  The  words  were  drowned  in  cries  and  groans ; 
already  rough  hands  were  laid  upon  the  pulpit  wherein 
Scultetus  stood.  Several  men  clambered  up  and  threat- 
ened the  preacher  with  uplifted  fists.  "  Mercy ! "  cried 
Scultetus,  and  raised  his  arm  to  ward  off  the  blows. 


THE  GREAT  WAR'S  PRELUDE  127 

"  Hold ! "  called  a  clear  voice  from  the  royal  gallery. 
"  Hold,  my  friends !  Hearken  to  me  ! "  Many  in  the 
crowd  turned. 

"  Silence !  our  Prince  will  speak  with  us,"  these  said. 
Those  in  the  foremost  ranks  of  the  mob  paid  no  heed ;  but 
gradually,  after  repeated  cries  of  "  Silence  ! "  the  uproar 
abated  and  a  measure  of  quiet  was  restored. 

Prince  Friedrich  stood  in  the  gallery  and  faced  his 
people.  At  sight  of  him  a  change  took  place  hi  the 
crowd's  attitude.  Personal  love  and  loyalty,  the  memories 
of  a  lifetime  bound  the  people  to  their  prince.  He  stood 
there  with  his  delicate  face  flushed,  his  eyes  aglow.  Even 
in  the  livid  light  which  poured  in  through  the  chapel  win- 
dows he  looked  a  splendid  and  noble  prince,  well  fitted 
to  claim  the  love  of  his  people.  Her  Highness  Elizabeth 
stood  beside  him,  her  hand  resting  on  his  shoulder,  and  it 
was  as  though  her  touch  awakened  strength  and  purpose 
in  his  soul.  To  do  him  justice,  too,  he  never  lacked  in 
courage,  and  now  he  did  not  quail  before  his  angry 
subjects. 

"  Hold  ! "  he  cried  again.  "  Cowards  !  Would  you  lay 
hands  on  a  defenceless  man  ?  If  you  have  ought  to 
complain  of,  I  am  here  to  answer  you ! "  He  paused,  and 
a  murmur  ran  through  the  groups  of  burghers. 

"  We  want  peace,  Palsgrave,"  said  one  man,  stepping 
forward  and  speaking  up  towards  the  gallery.  "  God  has 
sent  the  sign  of  His  wrath  to  Heidelberg  this  night !  We 
first  saw  the  trailing  moon  in  the  sky  after  the  Bohemian 
messengers  rode  through  the  town  to  the  castle.  That 
is  proof  that  it  is  God's  warning!  We  will  have  no 
more  to  do  with  revolt  and  bloodshed." 

"  And  so  you  raise  revolt  here  against  me  ?  Since  when 
do  my  people  dare  to  govern  me  ? "  asked  Friedrich  sternly. 
"  What  know  you  of  the  councils  of  princes  ? " 

"  We  want  peace  and  security  here  hi  Heidelberg,"  the 
spokesman  answered.  "  We  have  given  gold  to  yonder 
preacher  for  the  Bohemians.  We  will  give  no  more ! 
Rebellion  is  sinful ! " 

"  Would  you  hang  back,  you,  men  of  the  Reformed 


128  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Faith,  when  I  call  on  you  in  the  name  of  God  ?  Bohemia 
and  the  Faith  will  be  crushed  by  Romish  tyranny  if  we  do 
not  aid  !  Think  you  that  the  oppressor's  sword  will  be 
sheathed  in  Bohemian  blood  ?  Nay !  it  will  be  turned 
upon  you — upon  our  land  !  Trust  me,  my  Heidelbergers, 
I  will  guard  your  peace,  but  I  will  never  forsake  the  cause 
of  our  oppressed  brethren  in  Bohemia!"  cried  the  Pals- 
grave. The  burghers  whispered  together.  Another  citizen, 
a  substantial,  soberly  clad  personage,  stepped  forward  and 
addressed  the  prince. 

"  We  love  you  well,  Palsgrave  Friedrich,  you  and  your 
dear  lady ;  but  we  love  our  homes  and  our  safety  first. 
God's  menace  hath  rushed  into  the  sky,  and  we  dare  not 
disobey.  We  adjure  you  to  turn  away  from  the  battle- 
makers,  we  implore  you  to  shelter  us  from  warfare ! "  he 
said  gravely.  Prince  Friedrich  faltered,  the  exaltation 
faded  from  his  face,  and  for  a  moment  he  bowed  his  head. 
Then  Elizabeth  Stuart's  touch  came  on  his  shoulder  again, 
and  he  turned  to  her.  There  was  a  dawning  scorn  in  her 
eyes  as  she  saw  him  waver,  and  like  a  spurred  horse  he 
returned  to  the  charge. 

"  What ! "  he  cried  vehemently,  "  fear  you  to  fight  for 
your  Faith  ?  Would  you  tamely  submit  to  Romish  idola- 
try ?  And  what  fear  you  ?  You,  who  are  tutored  men, 
trusted  citizens,  you  tremble  before  a  new  star  ! — you,  who 
would  laugh  at  your  own  children  did  they  fear  the  dark, 
you  lose  your  wits  in  terror  before  a  heavenly  light !  Ah  ! 
you  might  be  craven  idolaters,  Popish  peasants,  believing 
fond  tales  ! "  The  Calvinistic  burghers  fell  silent.  They 
were  abashed  by  his  scornful  words. 

"  He  speaks  truth,"  some  muttered.  Now  Scultetus 
lifted  his  voice  in  loud  and  fervent  prayer.  Turning  to  the 
sullen  mob,  he  exhorted  them  in  grave  words  to  courage 
and  good  sense ;  and,  as  he  spoke,  the  habit  of  belief  in 
their  pastor  returned  to  the  burghers,  and  they  grew  calm. 

"  Go  in  peace,"  Scultetus  ended  solemnly,  "  go,  believing 
that  God  hath  not  sent  this  new  light  as  a  menace  to  you, 
His  children,  but  as  an  earnest  of  His  goodwill.  And  shall 
it  not  be  as  with  Joshua  of  old  when  the  Lord  bid  the  sun 


THE  GREAT  WAR'S  PRELUDE  129 

to  stand  still  upon  Gibeon,  and  the  moon  in  the  valley  of 
Ajalon,  while  the  Amorites  were  destroyed  by  God's 
warriors  ?  For  verily,  as  the  Lord  fought  for  Israel,  so  He 
will  fight  for  His  children  now.  And  He  hath  sent  a  neAv 
sun  to  guide  us,  and  yet  you  are  afraid  !  Go  in  peace,  and 
believe  this  thing  unto  which  I  have  testified,  for  I  know 
that  the  Lord  fighteth  for  Israel." 

Slowly  the  mob  filed  out  of  the  chapel.  Like  chidden 
children  they  took  their  way  homewards,  and  speaking  in 
hushed  voices  they  repeated  the  preacher's  words. 

Silence  fell  over  Heidelberg ;  the  ringing  of  bells  and 
the  hurried  tramp  of  feet  ceased,  and  safe  in  their  gabled 
dwellings  the  burghers  were  at  rest ;  while  without  the 
wild  wind  moaned,  and  over  city  and  castle,  over  hill  and 
vale,  was  shed  the  wan  light  of  the  great  comet. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

DEPARTURE 
"  O  !  Weh  !    Die  Pfalz  ziehet  gen  Boheim  ! " 

DURING  three  months  the  comet  glowered  over 
Heidelberg.  Gradually  the  fear  of  the  unknown 
wore  off,  and  the  citizens,  safe  in  their  comfortable 
dwellings,  forgot  that  outside  their  curtained  casements 
the  lurid  glare  lit  the  hours  of  night  to  an  eerie  false  day- 
light. Those  who  were  abroad  after  set  of  sun  gazed  up 
at  the  trailing  monster  without  fear,  believing  it  to  be, 
as  Master  Scultetus  had  affirmed,  a  heavenly  beacon  to 
lighten  the  godly. 

In  December  her  Highness  Elizabeth  had  given  birth 
to  her  third  child,  her  eldest  daughter,  Elizabeth,  and  once 
more  there  were  rejoicings  and  wassail  at  Heidelberg. 
From  Bohemia  came  but  little  news ;  the  rigours  of 
winter  had  put  an  end  to  active  hostilities,  and  though 
Mansfeld,  Thurn,  Hohenlohe,  and  Schlick,  with  the 
insurgent  forces,  still  confronted  Bucquoi  and  the  Imperi- 
alists, their  real  foes  were  famine  and  disease,  for  in  the 
icebound  land  both  armies  were  perforce  inactive. 

All  Europe  talked  of  Friedrich  as  a  probable  king  of 
Bohemia,  and  the  Princes  of  the  Union  in  lengthy  de- 
spatches discussed  the  matter,  and  gave  advice,  sometimes 
for,  sometimes  against,  the  crown's  acceptance  should  it 
be  offered.  But  none  knew  that  the  Bohemians  had 
actually  proffered  the  throne  to  Prince  Friedrich ;  none 
knew  that  he  had  vowed  to  be  the  Bohemians'  king  and 
the  champion  of  Protestantism. 

Meanwhile  Prince  Friedrich  waited.  His  envoy,  Count 
Dohna,  wrote  out  of  England  that  King  James  would  give 
no  definite  answer.  His  Majesty  was  occupied  in  weighing 
the  question  as  to  whether  the  Bohemians  had  the  right  to 

ISO 


DEPARTURE  131 

elect  a  king;  when  he  had  settled  that  point  he  would 
decide  as  to  the  right  of  an  Electoral  Prince  of  the  Empire 
to  accept  a  foreign  crown ;  when  he  had  decided  this  he 
would  deliberate  as  to  if  he  approved  of  his  son-in-law 
taking  so  momentous  a  step. 

Towards  the  end  of  January  the  comet  disappeared  as 
suddenly  as  it  had  come.  It  had  foretold  nothing,  since 
nothing  had  occurred ;  so  they  said  in  Heidelberg.  Then 
in  March  came  the  news  that  her  Highness's  mother,  Anne 
of  Denmark,  was  dead,  and  popular  rumour  proclaimed  the 
comet  to  have  foretold  the  queen's  death.  Elizabeth 
Stuart  wept  the  loss  of  her  vain,  foolish,  kindly  mother. 
The  mighty  hand  of  Death  smoothed  away  the  remem- 
brance of  Danish  Anne's  petulance,  and  of  her  unwise 
speeches  which  had  so  often  disturbed  the  peace  of  White- 
hall. The  Court  of  Heidelberg  donned  the  garments  of 
woe,  and  her  Highness,  according  to  the  German  mode,  re- 
tired to  her  own  apartments,  and  lived  mewed  up  like  a  nun 
to  prove  to  the  indifferent  that  she  mourned  her  mother. 

"A  mark  of  respect,  dear  heart;  and  it  is  our  custom 
here,"  said  Friedrich  pompously. 

"  Part  of  the  world's  nonsense,"  her  Highness  answered 
wearily;  "I  would  I  could  mourn  my  mother  in  my  own  way." 

"  The  world  would  think  you  lacked  in  love  to  your 
mother,"  he  said.  And  he  was  not  wrong,  for  all  the 
world  and  even  grave  historians  have  recounted  in  horrified 
words  how  King  James  only  wore  black  for  a  few  days  and 
thus  could  not  have  greatly  cared  for  his  queen. 

So  Elizabeth  was  cloistered  in  her  own  apartments,  and 
added  dulness  and  inaction  to  the  sadness  of  her  heart. 
Then  came  the  news  that  the  Emperor  Matthias  was  no 
more,  and  Europe  woke  to  the  fact  that  a  crisis  was 
imminent.  After  the  secret  negotiations  which  had  been 
afoot  for  months  anent  the  conditions  of  Friedrich's  ac- 
ceptance of  the  Bohemian  crown,  it  was  mighty  awkward 
for  him  to  be  called  upon  to  elect  as  emperor  the  very 
man  whom  he  was  scheming  to  have  deposed  as  king  of 
Bohemia;  for  directly  Matthias  had  breathed  his  last, 
Ferdinand  of  Styria,  the  crowned  king  of  Bohemia,  laid 


132  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

claim  to  the  empire,  and  the  Electors  were  notified  that 
the  election  would  take  place  at  Frankfurt  in  August. 

The  spring  brought  good  news  from  Bohemia.  Silesia, 
Moravia,  and  Lusatia  were  sending  troops  to  join  the  in- 
surgents. Thus  all  the  provinces  north  of  the  Danube 
were  ranged  against  the  House  of  Hapsburg.  In  June 
tidings  came  that  Thurn,  at  the  head  of  ten  thousand 
men,  beleagured  Vienna.  On  the  other  hand  it  was  known 
that  from  Flanders,  Lorraine,  and  the  Spanish  Netherlands 
reinforcements  were  hastening  to  Ferdinand  of  Styria's 
aid  ;  and  that  Philip  III.  of  Spain  had  despatched  troops 
which,  along  with  Milanese  and  Neapolitan  forces,  were 
marching  through  the  Tyrol  into  Austria. 

Towards  the  middle  of  June  came  the  unwelcome  in- 
telligence of  Mansfeld's  crushing  defeat  by  Bucquoi  at 
Zablat ;  of  Thurn's  consequent  recall  to  Bohemia ;  and  of 
the  mutinous  spirit  in  the  Bohemian  army.  The  dishonesty 
of  the  Bohemian  generals,  and,  indeed,  of  all  the  officers, 
had  raised  a  revolt  among  the  men-at-arms.  The  Council 
at  Prague  voted  inadequate  sums  for  the  troops'  main- 
tenance, but  even  these  monies  found  their  way  chiefly 
into  the  paymasters'  pockets,  and  the  troopers  were  in  rags 
and  near  starved.  A  starving,  unpaid,  mutinous  army  is 
a  cruel  guest  to  any  country,  and  bitter  was  the  lament  of 
both  townsfolk  and  peasants  who  were  robbed  and  their 
homesteads  pillaged  by  the  desperate,  famine-stricken 
soldiery. 

When  this  heavy  news  was  brought  to  Heidelberg,  Fried- 
rich  and  his  councillors  were  filled  with  consternation  and 
dismay,  but  their  gloom  was  lessened  by  a  despatch  which 
stated  that  Bethlem  Gabor,  Prince  of  Transylvania,  had  at 
length  openly  espoused  the  Protestant  cause,  and  was  send- 
ing a  large  force  to  join  the  insurgent  army.  The  same 
messenger  brought  information  of  the  action  of  the  dila- 
tory Prague  councillors,  who  had  at  length  voted  the 
much-needed  supplies  for  the  army. 

When  the  appointed  time  of  the  Imperial  election  drew 
near,  John  George  of  Saxony  paid  Heidelberg  a  visit.  He 
announced  loudly  that  he  intended  to  vote  for  Ferdinand 


DEPARTURE  133 

of  Styria  at  Frankfurt,  and  strongly  advised  Prince  Fried- 
rich  to  do  likewise.  As  he  received  evasive  answers  in  the 
council  chamber,  he  made  another  attack  when  her  High- 
ness was  present  at  the  banquet. 

"  God  knows,  Palsgrave,"  he  burst  out  as  he  set  down 
a  beaker  of  wine  which  he  had  drained  to  the  dregs ;  "  God 
knows !  you  might  indeed  be  thinking  of  taking  the 
Bohemian  crown  !  Eh  !  what  ? " 

"  Nay,  nay — I  am  not  yet  decided,"  answered  Friedrich, 
who  could  not  lie  easily. 

"  Decided  ? "  roared  his  bucolic  Highness  of  Saxony ;  "  it 
cannot  be  a  hard  question  !  You  are  asked  to  make  a  fool 
of  yourself,  and  you  say :  '  Many  thanks,  no  ! '  that  is  all ! 
Come  to  Frankfurt  with  me  to-morrow  and  vote  for  friend 
Ferdinand,  and  put  all  silly  notions  from  thine  head  like 
a  wise  lad  ! "  Prince  Friedrich  flushed  angrily.  It  was 
insufferable  to  him  that  nearly  all  the  Princes  of  the 
Union  spoke  to  him  and  treated  him  like  a  boy. 

"  I  have  sent  my  envoy,  Count  Solms,  to  Frankfurt,"  he 
answered  sullenly ;  "  I  shall  not  go  myself." 

"  You  must  go  I "  returned  the  Saxon  roughly.  "  You 
forget  that  by  inheritance  you  are  the  first  Elector.  You 
cannot  shirk  duty  thus." 

"  I  do  not  shirk  duty,  your  Highness,"  said  Friedrich, 
"  my  envoy  has  my  instructions."  Elizabeth  interposed 
with  a  query  as  to  if  the  wine  were  to  John  George's 
liking,  and  the  dangerous  topic  was  avoided.  His  High- 
ness of  Saxony  went  to  bed  happy  and  drunk,  and  the 
next  morning  rode  away  to  Frankfurt. 

Solms  had  a  hard  task,  for  the  Electors  were  unanimous 
in  their  choice  of  Ferdinand  of  Styria,  who  promised  free- 
dom of  worship  to  the  Protestants ;  and  Solms,  furnished 
with  insufficient  instructions,  also  fearing  to  precipitate 
affairs  if  he  refused  the  Palatine's  vote,  was  obliged  to 
acquiesce.  So  Ferdinand  was  elected  Emperor  in  due  form, 
and  with  the  vote  of  Prince  Friedrich's  accredited  envoy. 

Solms  rode  to  Heidelberg  with  the  news,  which  was 
received  with  consternation  by  Friedrich,  with  fury  by 
old  Anhalt,  and  with  fear  by  Master  Scultetus.  Three 


134  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

days  afterwards  a  deputation  arrived  from  Prague  telling 
how,  on  the  same  day  as  the  election  in  Frankfurt,  the 
Bohemian  states  had  solemnly  deposed  Ferdinand  and 
proclaimed  Prince  Friedrich  King  of  Bohemia. 

And  now  for  the  first  time,  in  the  leaders  of  this 
Bohemian  deputation,  the  Lady  Elizabeth  was  confronted 
with  specimens  of  her  future  subjects.  Count  Thurn 
was  a  handsome  man  of  polished  manners,  familiar  with 
courtly  ways,  and  he  spoke  both  French  and  German, 
having  been  educated  in  Vienna  ;  but  Count  Schlick  was 
only  master  of  a  few  words  of  German,  and  he  had  all  the 
hostility  of  manner  which  gives  the  Czech  a  bad  name  ; 
an  hostility  which  is,  in  truth,  only  pride  and  shyness,  and 
which  a  soft  word  or  a  smile  can  convert  into  an  impulsive 
and  grateful  tenderness.  Prince  Friedrich,  thoroughly 
German,  stiff  and  formal  at  the  wrong  moment,  was  help- 
less before  this  class  of  being ;  but  Elizabeth,  spontaneous 
and  warm-hearted,  always  forgetting  formality,  immedi- 
ately won  the  old  man's  heart.  He  bent  the  knee  before 
her,  and  she  gave  him  both  her  strong,  white  hands. 

"  Tell  him,"  she  said  to  Thurn,  "  that  those  who  give  a 
crown  do  not  kneel.  Rather  should  we  kneel  to  those 
who  make  us  rulers  of  so  brave  a  country  as  Bohemia." 
Count  Thurn  translated  her  words. 

"  Oppression  and  sadness  have  made  us  all  poets  in 
Bohemia,  and  a  poet  must  ever  kneel  at  the  feet  of  beauty 
and  purity,"  said  old  Schlick. 

"  Tell  him  that  I  pray  God  we  may  give  happiness  to 
the  Bohemians,  but  they  must  remain  poets  in  spite  of 
joy,"  she  said  to  Thurn  when  he  had  translated  Schlick's 
words.  So  the  Bohemians  departed,  and  took  a  very 
rhapsody  to  their  country,  as  to  how  fair  and  sweet  a  lady 
would  be  their  queen.  And  their  king  ?  Just  what  they 
needed,  so  they  affirmed:  a  handsome,  courteous  youth  who 
would  be  easily  guided.  In  fact  they  wanted  a  figurehead, 
a  stick  to  hang  a  crown  on.  They  did  not  seek  a  man  to 
govern  them,  for  that  they  opined  they  could  do  well  enough 
for  themselves ;  but  they  wanted  a  name  to  conjure  with, 
and  they  deemed  that  Friedrich  Prince  Palatine  and  his 


DEPARTURE  135 

fair  Pearl  of  Loveliness  would  be  a  most  suitable  name 
king  and  queen. 

For  two  hundred  years  there  had  existed  in  Bohemia  a 
traditional  love  of  England.  Already  early  in  the  fifteenth 
century  the  well-beloved  Bohemian  patriot  and  reformer, 
Master  John  Hus,  had  spoken  of  "  blessed  England."  Hus 
disclaimed  the  heretical  opinions  of  Wy cliff e ;  still  the 
English  reformer's  pure  life  and  magnificent  denunciation 
of  the  immorality  of  the  priesthood  had  inspired  Hus  with 
deep  sympathy  and  had  led  him  to  study  Wycliffe's  works, 
a  study  wherefore  Hus  paid  a  heavy  enough  price.  Later 
in  Bohemia's  troublous  history  the  oppressed  Protestants 
had  looked  with  yearning  eyes  to  England,  where  their 
Faith  reigned  omnipotent.  And  thus  the  English  Princess, 
Elizabeth  Stuart,  seemed  to  the  Bohemians  to  be  the 
queen  chosen  of  God  for  them,  and  the  thought  of  her 
banished  any  reluctance  which  they  felt  to  elect  a  German 
prince  for  their  king ;  for  the  hatred  of  the  Germans  still 
smouldered  in  every  Bohemian  breast,  a  hatred  fully 
justified  by  the  Bohemian  history  of  three  hundred 
years. 

The  Heidelbergers  saw  the  prospective  elevation  of  their 
prince  to  a  throne  with  mingled  feelings.  It  was  an 
honour,  and  they  were  proud  for  their  well-beloved  rulers, 
and  yet  they  dreaded  the  loss  of  a  Court  in  Heidelberg.  As 
the  days  wore  on  this  feeling  deepened,  and  general  de- 
pression and  anxiety  reigned  in  the  city,  whereas  at  the 
castle  all  was  joy  and  elation,  and  a  grand  festival  was 
ordered  for  the  night  before  their  new  Majesties'  departure. 
The  morning  brought  the  Electress-Dowager  to  Heidel- 
berg. For  many  weeks  she  had  written  letters  of  warning 
to  her  son,  and  now  she  had  arrived,  a  Cassandra  presaging 
woe.  She  summoned  Friedrich  and  Elizabeth  to  her 
chamber,  and  after  dismissing  her  attendants,  she  asked 
sternly  if  their  Highnesses'  departure  for  Bohemia  was 
indeed  fixed  for  the  morrow. 

"  But,  madame,  you  have  been  informed  of  the  matter 
from  the  outset,"  cried  Friedrich  impatiently. 

"  I  have  ever  counselled  you  to  reject  the  crown,  and 


136  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

now  I  lay  a  mother's  commands  upon  you  to  do  so  ere  it 
is  too  late,"  she  returned. 

"  In  all  respect,  madame,  I  cannot  content  you  in  this 
matter,"  he  said,  "  and  methinks  a  mother's  commands 
can  only  be  laid  on  an  unripe  youth." 

"  You  forget,  madame  mere,  that  Friedrich  is  a  grown 
man  ! "  cried  her  Highness. 

"  And  you  forget,  madame  ma  fille,  that  in  Germany  we 
are  so  unmodish  as  to  keep  parental  respect,  aye,  and 
authority,  all  the  days  of  our  life,"  the  old  Electress 
retorted  sharply. 

"  It  is  an  absurd  tyranny,  madame ;  the  tyranny  of  old 
age  over  youth  breeds  ugly  thoughts  !  We  must  be  free 
to  follow  our  destiny  once  we  are  grown  men  and  women," 
said  Elizabeth  hotly. 

"  To  your  undoing,  madame  ? "  queried  Juliane  in  a  grim 
tone. 

She  spoke  long  and  gravely  of  the  risks  attendant  upon 
grasping  a  crown,  of  the  jealousy  which  each  Protestant 
prince  would  harbour  secretly  against  a  member  of  the 
Union  who  should  rise  to  regal  honours,  of  the  instability 
of  the  Bohemians,  of  the  awe-inspiring  power  of  Austria. 
She  warned  Friedrich  that  in  case  of  failure  as  Bohemian 
king  he  would  lose  his  Electorate  and  even  his  hereditary 
Palatinate  lands.  From  warning  and  exhortation  Juliane 
passed  to  supplication,  but,  as  Friedrich  told  her,  it  was 
too  late. 

"  How  can  I  go  back  from  my  written  and  spoken  word, 
madame  ma  mere  ? "  he  urged. 

"  You  will  forfeit  all  for  the  sake  of  a  short  span  of 
kingship,"  the  old  Electress  said  in  a  sad  voice. 

"  Courage,  madame,"  cried  her  Highness  gaily.  "  Believe 
me,  I  had  liefer  eat  sauerkraut  with  a  king  than  fare 
sumptuously  with  a  Palsgrave  !  " 

"  Madame  ma  fille,  that  is  an  ugly  saying,"  Juliane 
answered  angrily. 

"  Ah !  dear  madame,  I  do  not  mean  it  in  such  dire 
earnest !  But  I  do  mean  that  we  dare  not  waver  now — 
dare  not  for  our  honour's  sake,"  said  Elizabeth  gravely. 


DEPARTURE  137 

"  We  must  follow  destiny  be  it  good  or  evil ;  but  a  brave 
heart  is  a  mighty  alchemist,  that  I  can  warrant." 

It  was  a  dismal  day.  The  wind  drove  the  rain  into 
a  vast  dim  curtain  over  the  valley,  hiding  the  distant 
plain  and  blurring  the  outline  of  the  Heiligenberg. 
Towards  evening  the  storm  relented,  and  a  pale  gleam 
of  sunshine  came  through  the  clouds. 

In  the  banqueting  hall  the  King  Elect  sat  at  dinner 
with  his  guests.  All  the  nobles  of  the  Palatinate  were 
assembled  at  this  farewell  feast,  and  their  ladies  would 
repair  later  to  the  Hall  of  Mirrors  to  bid  adieu  and  God- 
speed to  the  Pfalzgrafin  Elizabeth.  It  would  not  be  a 
mournful  farewell,  for  it  was  known  that  their  new  Majes- 
ties fully  intended  to  spend  a  portion  of  each  year  in  their 
castle  of  Heidelberg  ;  and  further,  that  both  the  King  and 
the  Queen  had  issued  a  cordial  invitation  to  the  noble 
youths  and  maidens  of  the  Palatinate  to  grace  the  Court  at 
Prague.  So  there  was  merriment  in  the  banqueting  hall, 
and  in  the  Hall  of  Mirrors  there  was  to  be  a  grand  ball. 

Elizabeth  and  her  Highness  Juliane  did  not  attend  the 
banquet,  they  would  only  appear  at  the  ball.  There  were 
many  preparations  for  the  journey  on  the  morrow.  "  Tell 
your  guests  that  your  goodwife  is  busy  making  her  bundle 
to  carry  with  her  into  Bohemia,"  Elizabeth  had  said  gaily. 

There  was  one  sad  little  face  in  Heidelberg  Castle  that 
day,  little  Karl  Ludwig's.  For  Karlutz,  as  his  father  called 
him,  was  deemed  too  young  to  be  taken  to  Prague,  and  he 
and  his  baby  sister  Elizabeth  were  to  be  left  at  Franken- 
thal  in  the  care  of  the  Electress  Juliane.  Prince  Henry 
Friedrich,  having  reached  the  mature  age  of  five  years, 
was  to  accompany  his  parents,  and  he  was  wild  with  joy 
at  the  prospect  of  a  journey. 

Elizabeth  sat  in  her  withdrawing  room,  little  Karlutz 
leaned  against  her  knee,  while  the  tiny  Princess  Elizabeth 
lay  sleeping  in  an  oaken  cradle  at  her  side.  Prince  Henry 
was  rushing  about  playing  at  stag-hunting.  Elizabeth 
Stuart's  eyes  rested  on  him  fondly ;  this,  her  first-born,  was 
the  child  of  her  heart. 

The  boy  paused  in  his  noisy  game. 


138  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  I'mgoing  to  Prague,  and  you'll  stay  here  alone,  brother," 
he  said  proudly,  giving  little  Karlutz  a  push.  The  child 
raised  a  whimpering  cry.  He  was  old  enough  to  under- 
stand that  every  one  was  going  away  somewhere  and  he 
was  to  be  left  behind. 

"  Poor  sweeting,"  said  Elizabeth  softly  to  the  crying  child 
— "  poor  forsaken  sweeting."  She  lifted  Karlutz  to  her 
knee.  Now  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  could  not  leave  her 
children. 

"  I'm  going  to  Prague  to  be  a  king  and  shoot  stags ! " 
announced  Prince  Henry,  "  and  Karlutz  will  stay  here  and 
be  eaten  by  wolves ! "  he  added.  At  this  the  little  fellow's 
whimpering  rose  to  a  yell,  for  though  he  was  far  too  young 
to  understand,  yet  he  felt  that  something  was  going  to 
happen,  and  his  mother's  pitying  tone  told  him  it  was 
something  terrible.  Baby  Elizabeth  awoke  screaming. 

"  What  bad  bairns  !  "  cried  Elizabeth  Stuart.  "  As  Mis- 
tress Margaret  Hay  my  nurse  used  to  say  to  me :  '  Ye 
are  a  bad  bairn  and  good  for  nothing.' "  She  rose  and 
summoned  her  ladies  from  the  antechamber. 

"  Take  these  noisy  ones,"  she  commanded,  "  I  shall  go 
into  the  plaisance  with  Henry  for  a  while  till  it  is  time  to 
dress  for  the  ball."  She  passed  down  the  shallow-stepped 
stairway  and  out  on  to  the  terrace  near  the  Dicke  Thurm. 
For  a  moment  she  gazed  over  the  parapet  across  the  town 
roofs  to  the  peaceful  valley.  The  sun  was  setting  in  a  fiery 
ball,  and  already  the  mist  rose  thickly  from  the  drenched 
fields  beyond  the  city.  Elizabeth  drew  Prince  Henry's 
little  cloak  more  closely  round  him. 

"  Come,  my  Hal,"  she  said,  "  we  will  go  and  say  farewell 
to  the  gardens  and  the  orchard." 

She  pushed  open  the  postern  which  led  to  her  own 
garden.  Autumn's  rude  touch  had  weighed  heavy  on  the 
flowers,  and  they  lay  blackened  and  beaten  to  the  wet  earth 
by  the  fierce  rain.  Summer  was  gone  and  the  glory  of  the 
world  seemed  forgotten.  Elizabeth  Stuart  felt  a  sense  of 
dreariness  and  foreboding  creep  over  her.  Somehow  she 
wished  that  she  could  have  bidden  farewell  to  her  beloved 
garden  when  the  flowers  were  in  their  splendour  of  spring 


DEPARTURE  139 

or  summer.  She  walked  down  the  pathway  to  the  gate 
which  Friedrich  had  caused  to  be  built  for  her  in  a  single 
night.  She  told  Hal  the  story. 

"  Did  my  father  build  it  with  his  own  hands  ? "  the  little 
fellow  asked. 

"Nay,  he  caused  others  to  build  it,"  she  answered, 
laughing. 

"  I  would  have  built  it  for  you  myself,  mother,"  he  said 
proudly.  "  It  is  nothing  to  make  other  people  build — I 
would  build  for  myself ! " 

How  like  Hal  was  to  his  dead  namesake,  her  dear 
brother  Henry,  she  thought ;  the  same  confident  earnest- 
ness, the  same  eager  spirit,  the  wish  to  work  honestly. 
And  this  boy  would  one  day  be  King  of  Bohemia — this 
boy  might  fulfil  the  promise  of  true  kingship  by  right  of 
noble  purpose,  which  Death  had  wrested  from  that  other 
Hal.  She  shuddered — perchance  Death  would  ravish  this 
Hal  from  her  too  before  there  was  time  for  the  fulfilment  of 
so  fair  a  promise  ?  What  had  come  to  her  ?  Why  did  such 
drear  sentiments  assail  her,  she  asked  herself  impatiently  ? 
She  laid  her  hand  upon  the  stonework  of  the  archway, 
and  promised  herself  that  next  year,  when  the  world  was 
full  of  summer  again,  and  kingship  assured,  she  would 
return  to  this  archway  and  lay  her  hand  here  once  more. 

"  Come,  Hal,"  she  called.  She  took  her  way  round  the 
Dicke  Thurm  and  down  the  terraced  gardens  to  the  rosery. 
Silently  she  bid  farewell  to  the  rose  trees. 

"  You  see,  Hal,  we  must  say  adieu  to  our  dear  garden," 
she  said,  "  only  adieu  till  next  year.  When  the  roses 
bloom  again  we  will  come  home  out  of  Bohemia  to  pluck 
the  flowers." 

She  wandered  on  through  the  rosery  and  beside  the 
flowering  parterres,  past  the  orangery  and  the  water  gar- 
dens, where  Neptune,  surrounded  by  mermaids,  poured 
from  trident  and  uplifted  shells  cascades  of  clear  water, 
and  dolphins  spouted  streams  from  their  gaping  mouths 
into  the  stone  tanks.  She  came  to  her  orchard,  which 
stretched  down  in  a  gentle  slope  towards  the  river  Neckar. 
Prince  Hal  ran  on  before  her,  and  she  followed  at  a  leisurely 


140  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

pace,  for  her  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  future.  Of  a 
sudden  the  little  fellow  gave  a  cry. 

"  Look,  mother ! "  he  called.  "  Look !  the  ugly  crea- 
tures ! "  He  fled  back  to  his  mother. 

"  Mother — mother !  they  are  coming  up  the  hill ! "  he 
said,  near  sobbing  with  terror. 

"  Nay,  Hal !  What  is  it  ? "  she  said  soothingly.  "Was 
it  a  frog  or  a  slug  ?  Dear  heart,  you  must  not  be  afraid 
of  any  animal.  Ah  ! "  She  finished  with  an  excla- 
mation of  surprise,  for  from  out  the  edge  of  the  long  grass 
there  peered  at  her  a  strange,  horrid  little  head,  and  with 
a  jerking  movement  an  animal  came  towards  her.  She 
stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  for  it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  of 
the  orchard  slope  had  become  alive  with  uncouth,  black, 
sleek  forms  advancing  steadily. 

The  light  of  the  short  autumn  day  was  failing,  and  a 
white  mist  rose  from  the  low  ground  wherefroni  the  crea- 
tures came. 

"  Hush,  Hal,"  she  said  tremulously,  "  they  are  only 
the  Neckar  newts,  harmless  little  animals."  But  the 
boy  clung  to  her,  and  clambered  up  into  her  arms. 

"  Mother — mother  !  they  are  going  to  run  over  me  with 
their  cold,  clammy  feet.  Oh  !  oh ! "  he  wailed.  She  held 
him  fast,  though  his  weight  was  much  for  her. 

"  They  cannot  touch  you,  dearling,"  she  whispered,  but 
she  felt  that  she  too  was  trembling ;  she  felt  that  if  one  of 
those  uncouth,  slimy  creatures  were  to  touch  her — to  walk 
over  her  foot — she  must  scream  aloud. 

The  newts  advanced  from  out  the  long  grass  down  the 
slope  as  in  an  army.  She  could  see  the  vivid  orange  stripe 
on  each  swiftly  turning  flat  head  ;  she  could  see  their  cran- 
ing necks,  their  plump,  brown  bodies,  and  their  webbed  feet. 
A  sense  of  physical  sickness  seized  her.  The  animals  had 
reached  the  pathway  where  she  stood ;  some  had  jerked 
past  her  and  were  trailing  up  the  bank  behind  her — but 
there  seemed  no  end  of  them.  They  were  all  around 
her.  .  .  . 

"  Ah  ! "  she  cried  aloud.  One  of  the  creatures  had 
touched  her  foot.  Should  she  fly  ?  She  made  a  step 


DEPARTURE  141 

forward,  and  again  her  shoe  touched  a  plump,  sleek,  slimy 
body.  She  closed  her  eyes.  Courage !  They  were  only 
river  animals.  But  an  army  of  them  here  in  her  orchard  ? 

"  Mother — oh  !  you  are  letting  me  fall,"  the  child  wailed. 
Her  pride  came  to  her  rescue ;  she  would  not  behave  like 
a  timorous  waiting-maid.  Fighting  back  that  awful  feel- 
ing of  sickened  disgust  which  rose  in  her  throat,  she 
strained  the  little  fellow  to  her  breast  and  stood  like  some 
figure  of  defiance  and  despair,  but  with  closed  eyes  and 
beating  heart.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  the  creatures' 
webbed  feet  touched  her  constantly,  as  if  their  fat,  dank 
bodies  pressed  around  her.  She  fancied  that  a  fetid,  un- 
wholesome smell  filled  her  nostrils. 

At  length  she  opened  her  eyes.  The  animals  were 
gone ;  and  the  melancholy  tranquillity  of  the  orchard 
seemed  to  rebuke  her  for  her  fear.  Hal  still  clung  round 
her  neck,  and  now  she  felt  the  weight  of  the  well-grown 
five-year-old  boy  to  be  intolerable.  She  tried  to  set  him 
down,  but  he  clutched  wildly  at  her,  crying : 

"  They  will  walk  over  me.  Mother — mother !  keep 
me  safe ! " 

"  They  are  gone,  Hal,"  she  said,  "  you  need  not  fear  them 
now."  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  dreamed — those 
strange  intruders  in  the  well-known  peaceful  orchard 
could  have  been  but  figments  of  her  fancy.  She  stooped 
and  set  Hal  on  his  feet. 

"  Be  a  cavalier,  Hal  of  mine,"  she  said.  "  Do  not  act 
like  a  silly  maiden."  She  noticed  that  the  pathway  was 
traced  with  dozens  of  imprints  where  the  webbed  feet  had 
squelched  into  the  soft  red  mud,  and  she  saw  that  the 
creature  which  had  passed  over  her  foot  had  left  a  smudge 
of  whitish  slime  on  her  shoe.  Once  more  disgust  seized 
her,  and  she  turned  sick  and  faint. 

"  Come,  Hal,"  she  said,  and  gripping  the  little  fellow's 
hand  firmly  in  her  own  she  hurried  away.  She  met  a 
gardener  in  the  rosery. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  hundreds  of  Neckar  newts  in  the 
orchard  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I've  seen  a  few  of   the  nasty  efts  sometimes,  your 


142  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Highness,"  said  the  man.  "  We  say  in  the  country  here 
that  when  they  march  in  an  army  they  go  to  a  funeral, 
or  to  bid  farewell  to  a  wanderer  who  will  never  return  to 
this  land ;  but  I've  never  seen  them  marching,  your 
Highness."  He  looked  at  Elizabeth  inquisitively. 

"They  are  harmless  animals  enough,"  she  returned 
carelessly;  but  a  sense  of  desolation  and  despair  crept 
over  her. 

"  Good  night !  "  she  said  to  the  man  kindly. 

"  Good  night,  and  God  bring  your  Highness  safe  back  to 
us  out  of  Bohemia,"  the  gardener  answered  deferentially. 

"  God  grant  it !  "  she  said  under  her  breath  as  she  passed 
on  towards  the  castle. 

On  the  morning  of  their  Majesties'  departure  leaden 
clouds  lowered  over  the  Heiligenberg  as  if  in  sullen  anger, 
and  the  valley  towards  Ladenburg  was  shut  out  by  a 
dense  wall  of  mist.  In  the  city  the  rain  beat  fiercely  on 
the  red  roofs  and  splashed  unceasingly  over  the  rough, 
uneven  cobblestones  of  the  narrow  streets.  Towards  eight 
of  the  clock  the  bells  of  the  Heilig-Geist  Kirche  rang  out, 
and  the  citizens  gathered  quickly  on  the  market-place 
near  the  church. 

It  was  a  black-robed  crowd,  for  the  burghers  had  donned 
their  sombre  winter  mantles  to  shield  them  from  the 
downpour,  and  in  the  chill,  grey  light  of  the  morning 
it  seemed  to  be  a  funeral  company  gathered  there.  The 
dark  forms  issued  from  the  narrow  streets  and  joined 
their  fellow-citizens  in  the  Marktplatz,  where  the  men 
spoke  together  in  hushed  voices,  and  the  women  wept. 
Truly,  there  was  sorrow  in  Heidelberg  that  day. 

The  crowd  streamed  into  the  church.  In  the  lofty, 
pillared  naves  the  darkness  was  almost  of  night.  No  light 
was  upon  the  bare  altar,  before  which  stood  the  long,  plain 
table  where  the  Calvinists  partook  gloomily  of  the  feast 
of  remembrance,  the  Lord's  Supper.  On  the  pulpit  two 
lights  flickered.  For  some  time  the  black-gowned  con- 
gregation stood  waiting,  and  it  seemed  as  though  they 
were  expecting  the  advent  of  some  funeral  train,  as  if 


DEPARTURE  143 

each  moment  the  awesome,  heavy,  careful  tread  of  coffin- 
bearers  must  break  the  silence.  Overhead  the  bell  still 
rang,  and  its  tolling  seemed  to  be  a  knell  for  the  departed. 

With  a  swift  step  a  young  man  entered  the  church,  a 
slender  youth  with  large,  melancholy  dark  eyes,  and  a 
pointed  beard.  On  the  ruff  of  fine  white  linen  his  brown 
hair  fell  in  glossy  ringlets,  one  of  which  was  plaited  into 
a  pearl  earring  which  fell  from  one  ear  only.  His  cloak, 
tunic,  and  trunk  hose  were  of  black  velvet,  and  as  he 
moved  the  cloak  fell  back,  showing  upon  his  breast  a 
flashing  jewel  hanging  on  a  broad  blue  ribbon  from 
beneath  the  ruff.  He  was  followed  by  some  half-dozen 
attendants  soberly  clad  like  himself.  These  formed  a 
group  at  the  base  of  the  nave,  while  Friedrich  the  Pals- 
grave passed  on  and  took  his  place  in  a  chair  before  the 
pulpit.  From  the  sacristy,  whence  in  olden  times  had 
come  forth  priests  in  the  splendour  of  rich  vestments, 
now  came  a  small,  grave-faced  man  in  black  raiment,  who 
took  his  place  in  the  pulpit.  It  was  Master  Scultetus, 
and  he  spoke  his  text  in  a  harsh  voice :  "  Behold  My 
servant  whom  I  uphold ;  Mine  elect  hi  whom  My  soul 
delighteth;  I  have  put  My  spirit  upon  him,  he  shall 
bring  forth  judgment  to  the  Gentiles."  Solemnly  the 
preacher  recounted  the  choosing  of  Friedrich  of  the 
Palatinate  by  the  Bohemians,  how  these  Lutherans  had 
been  led  by  the  hand  of  God  to  elect  a  king  of  the  pure 
faith  of  Calvin.  He  spoke  of  the  splendour  of  Friedrich's 
mission,  yet  he  warned  the  congregation  that  as  the 
knights  of  old  had  perished  in  the  crusades  against  the 
infidels,  so  might  the  champion  of  Protestantism  be  called 
upon  to  lay  down  his  life  in  this  crusade? against  idolatry 
and  oppression. 

"  Bid  him  farewell — your  Palsgrave,"  the  preacher  cried, 
"  for  verily,  ye  may  see  him  no  more  !  And  yet  such  is 
the  justice  of  God  that  ye  may  look  forward  confidently 
to  a  glad  greeting  of  your  prince.  For  God  shall  lead 
him  back  to  you  in  peace  after  the  hosts  of  the  Philistines 
and  their  Hapsburg  Goliath  have  fallen  before  the  sling 
of  this  new  David."  Triumphantly  the  preacher's  voice 


144  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

echoed  through  the  vaulted  aisles  of  the  Heilig-Geist 
church,  and  yet  that  verbiage  of  biblical  language  so  dear  to 
the  hearts  of  the  Calvinists  failed  for  once  to  stir  the  con- 
gregation. They  were  men  of  peace  after  all,  and  though 
they  loved  to  thunder  forth  texts  and  to  garnish  their 
talk  with  Old  Testament  allusions,  it  was  quite  another 
thing  to  see  their  well-beloved  Palsgrave  go  forth  to 
battle  with  the  overwhelming  forces  of  Hapsburg,  and  to 
lose  the  remunerative  presence  of  a  permanent  Court  at 
Heidelberg.  Friedrich  sat  motionless,  his  melancholy  eyes 
fixed  and  thoughtful,  his  cheeks  pale  with  emotion ;  a  poor, 
weak,  willing  David,  all  unfit  to  contend  with  any  Goliath  ! 

At  length  the  preacher  ceased  speaking,  and  for  a 
moment  the  sound  of  the  raindrops  beating  against  the 
windows  usurped  the  place  of  the  voice  of  prayer.  In 
spite  of  Master  Scultetus's  vehemence  the  dismal  baldness 
of  the  Calvinistic  form  of  worship  was  flat  and  uninspir- 
ing. How  different  had  an  organ  pealed,  had  a  thousand 
tapers  lit  the  ancient  church  to  beauty,  had  vestments 
and  glowing  altar-cloths  given  warmth  and  colour  to  the 
grey  stone  of  that  Gothic  pile  !  If,  instead  of  the  heavy, 
rank  odour  of  wet  garments,  the  fragrance  of  incense  had 
filled  the  air !  Verily,  the  "  harlot  of  Rome  "  knew  how 
to  thrill  souls,  knew  it  better  than  that  stern  woman  of 
unalluring  virtue,  the  Calvinistic  matron. 

Carefully  Scultetus  blew  out  the  two  candles  on  the 
pulpit  and  descended  the  steps  into  the  church.  His 
tread  creaked  discordantly  as  he  hurried  into  the  sacristy. 
The  King  Elect  rose  and  passed  down  the  central  nave 
to  the  porch. 

"  Farewell,  my  friends  !  "  he  said  huskily  to  those  who 
had  followed  him  from  the  church.  "  Farewell !  God 
grant  you  prosperity.  Farewell !  Farewell ! "  he  repeated, 
as  they  crowded  round  him. 

A  venerable  burgher,  the  aged  -Master-Builder  Jordan, 
broke  out  in  loud  weeping. 

"  Palsgrave,  Palsgrave  !  do  not  leave  us,"  he  sobbed. 
"  'Tis  a  long  road  to  Bohemia,  and  we  shall  weary  without 
you  and  your  dear  lady." 


DEPARTURE  145 

As  if  the  old  man's  words  had  unlocked  a  flood- 
gate of  speech,  cries  and  supplications  burst  forth. 
The  citizens  pressed  round  the  King  Elect,  crying  out : 
"  Stay  with  us,  your  Highness  !  Oh  !  go  not  to  Bohemia. 
Rule  us  in  peace  and  plenty.  Do  not  tempt  the  wrath  of 
God  by  travellings.  Alas  !  alas  !  if  you  go  we  shall  never 
see  you  more.  Never  more  !  Alas  !  never  more  !  " 

Friedrich  stood  irresolute.  Their  emotion  caught  him, 
and  he  wept  with  them.  "  I  will  return  to  you — I  go  but 
for  a  little  time,"  he  stammered.  Now  the  crowd  which 
had  stood  beyond  the  church  doors  swept  in,  Women 
threw  themselves  upon  their  knees  at  his  feet.  "  Do  not 
leave  us  ! "  they  wailed.  "  Stay  with  us  or  we  are  lost ! 
If  you  go  we  shall  never  see  you  more  !  " 

A  madness  seemed  to  have  seized  the  orderly  Heidel- 
bergers,  a  very  frenzy  of  grief  and  apprehension.  They 
clutched  his  mantle,  they  kissed  its  hem.  A  weeping 
woman  flung  her  arms  around  his  knees,  crying :  "  Alas  ! 
alas  !  Prince,  you  go  to  destruction  !  "  Friedrich  raised  her. 

"  I  go  to  do  my  duty,"  he  said  gently. 

"  That  duty  is  a  vain  thing  which  leads  a  prince  to 
forsake  his  people  ! "  a  voice  called  in  the  crowd.  At  this 
moment  Scultetus,  Carnerarius  the  State  secretary,  Count 
Schomberg,  and  the  other  gentlemen  shouldered  their 
way  through  the  crowd  to  the  King's  side.  They  tore 
his  cloak  from  out  the  people's  grasp,  and  hurried  him 
away  across  the  market-place.  But  the  sound  of  the 
people's  wailing  followed  him  as  he  passed  up  the  steep 
hill  to  the  castle. 

Here  all  was  hurry,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  Friedrich  to 
be  in  the  commonplace  of  life.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
he  had  escaped  from  some  irksome  dream,  as  if  that 
scene  in  the  Heilig-Geist  Kirche  had  been  unreal,  some 
doleful  history  that  had  been  told  to  him.  He  welcomed 
the  signs  of  approaching  travel  which  he  saw  in  the 
courtyard.  Huge  wooden  cases  stood  about,  and  into 
these  the  serving-men  were  piling  up  velvet  bed-hang- 
ings and  silken  coverlets,  or  packages  of  linen.  There  a 
stout  carpenter  was  fitting  bars  around  her  Highness's 

K 


146  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

carven  chairs,  half-a-dozen  henchmen  staggered  across 
the  yard  bearing  chests  of  silver,  and  others  laboured 
beneath  loads  of  priceless  tapestries.  It  was  all  so  com- 
fortably familiar  to  the  King !  How  often  had  he  seen 
such  preparations  for  travel !  Without  all  this  baggage 
no  prince,  or  even  wealthy  traveller,  could  journey,  for 
who  could  trust  to  the  sorry  accommodation  of  roadside 
hostelries  ?  So  beds  and  chairs,  tapestries,  linen,  silver, 
and  even  the  kitchen  utensils  were  carried  in  waggons, 
or  on  sumpter-horses  behind  the  coaches  of  the  great. 

On  this  occasion  much  was  to  be  conveyed  to  Prague. 
Although  it  was  known  that  the  Hradcany  Palace  con- 
tained the  pictures  and  statues,  ivories  and  carvings 
which  Rudolf,  the  Emperor-antiquary,  had  treasured  there, 
who  could  say  if  her  new  Majesty  of  Bohemia  would  find 
those  luxuries  of  life  which  were  necessary  to  her  ? 
Already  several  well-guarded  companies  of  sumptermen 
with  laden  horses  had  been  despatched  into  Bohemia; 
but  the  country  was  full  of  skirmishing  bands  from 
Bucquoi's  army  near  Budweis  ;  and  worse  still,  it  was 
whispered,  with  famished,  marauding  deserters  from  the 
Bohemian  forces,  and  it  was  feared  that  the  King's 
baggage  would  never  reach  Prague.  Though  Mansfeld 
held  the  town  of  Pilsen,  since  his  defeat  at  Zablat  he 
sulked  behind  the  ramparts,  and  afforded  but  scant  aid 
to  any  traveller.  And  so,  for  the  most  part,  the  King 
and  Queen's  baggage  was  to  follow  them,  well  guarded 
like  themselves.  Their  route  lay  through  Ansbach  to 
Amberg,  the  last  Palatine  town  before  the  Bohemian 
frontier.  Here  it  was  designed  to  make  a  long  halt,  for 
the  quaint  mediaeval  city  with  the  mighty  walls,  the 
ninety-seven  watch-towers,  and  the  ancient  gabled  castle 
on  the  banks  of  the  river  Vils,  had  ever  been  a  favourite 
abode  of  her  Highness  Elizabeth  and  the  Palsgrave. 

It  was  cheering  to  Friedrich  to  reflect  that  he  but 
journeyed  at  first  to  well-known  Amberg ;  somehow  he 
felt  that  he  could  not  have  faced  his  entry  into  Bohemia 
with  the  wailing  of  his  faithful  Heidelbergers  still  ring- 
ing in  his  ears.  He  hurried  through  the  courtyard  to 


DEPARTURE  147 

the  English  Palace.  In  the  "  supper  parlour  "  a  repast 
was  set  out,  and  in  the  embrasure  of  the  latticed  window 
her  Highness  sat  waiting.  Around  her  were  her  ladies, 
Amalia  Solnis  and  the  four  English  damsels  who  had 
journeyed  to  Heidelberg  to  learn  the  duties  of  maids  of 
honour  to  the  new  Queen  of  Bohemia.  There  were 
Mistress  Bridget  Clovelly  and  Mistress  Joan  Stanley, 
iny  Lady  Phyllis  Devereux,  who  had  been  Elizabeth 
Stuart's  playmate  in  the  happy  days  at  Combe,  and 
Mistress  Alison  Hay,  cousin  to  my  Lord  Viscount  Don- 
caster,  newly  created  Earl  of  Carlisle,  the  Ambassador. 
A  right  merry  company,  but  decorous  and  graceful  in 
their  merriment,  as  befitted  ladies  of  such  gentle  birth. 
They  gathered  round  the  breakfast-table,  which,  in  the 
English  fashion,  was  decked  with  snowy  napery.  Her 
Highness  Elizabeth  would  have  none  of  the  German 
modes — no  polished  oaken  board  or  gorgeous  velvet 
coverings ;  she  loved  her  table  to  be  spread  with  fair 
white  linen,  and  would  only  permit  the  serving-men  to 
clear  away  the  tablecloth  before  the  fruit  was  served  at 
dinner  or  at  supper  time. 

Her  Highness  Louise  Juliane  entered,  and  Elizabeth 
Stuart  and  the  ladies  bent  before  her  in  deep  courtesies, 
then  the  company  partook  of  their  morning  meal.  And 
a  copious  refection  it  was :  there  were  "  siipplein  "  broths 
of  mixed  meat  and  cream,  there  were  pasties  and  game, 
"  hahnlein  "  roast  (small  chickens),  and  "  hahnlein  "  baked, 
wine  possets  strongly  spiced,  ale  and  sack,  and  a  vast 
assortment  of  cakes  and  baked  sweetmeats. 

The  merriment  soon  banished  the  shadow  from  the 
King's  brow.  He  jested  with  the  maids  of  honour,  teased 
my  Lady  Phyllis  Devereux  about  the  stories  her  Highness 
had  told  of  their  childish  pranks  at  Combe,  rallied  Mistress 
Alison  Hay  about  barbarous  Scotland,  asked  her  if  she 
would  make  her  entry  into  Prague  like  her  cousin  my 
Lord  of  Carlisle  did  at  Paris,  with  pearls  sewn  so  loosely  on 
her  raiment  that  they  fell  off  for  the  populace  to  gather  up. 

During  this  young  gaiety  Louise  Juliane  sat  silent.  She 
was  oppressed  by  doleful  forebodings,  and,  God  knows,  the 


148  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

jangle  of  unshared  merriment,  the  laughter  wherein  we  do 
not  join,  is  torture  to  an  aching  heart.  The  repast  ended, 
and  King  Friedrich  called  for  a  goblet  of  wine. 

"  Madame  ma  mere,"  he  cried,  rising  to  his  feet,  "  I 
would  fain  pledge  you  in  a  cup  of  sack  ! "  He  lifted  the 
silver  goblet  high,  and,  half  jesting,  he  cried: 

"  To  our  next  merry  meeting,  madame  mere  ! "  Then 
seeing  her  troubled  face  he  whispered  to  her  in  German : 
"  Mutterlein,  sei  nit  traurig,  lieV  M'iitterlein  !  " 

Louise  Juliane  rose,  and  she,  too,  lifted  her  goblet  high. 
"  I  pledge  you,  sweet  son — "  she  said,  but  the  tears 
choked  her  and  she  could  not  drink. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  rose  hastily.  "  We  must  not  tarry 
longer  ! "  she  cried.  "  It  is  time  we  were  on  the  road  if 
we  would  sleep  in  Ansbach  this  night." 

Her  ladies  brought  her  brown  velvet  travelling  mantle 
and  the  high-crowned  felt  hat  with  the  long  feather. 
After  she  had  donned  these,  she  stood  silent,  gazing  round 
the  supper  parlour.  A  wave  of  sadness  swept  over  her. 
She  had  passed  so  many  peaceful  hours  here  with  Fried- 
rich,  Christel,  and  her  ladies,  and  she  had  learned  to  love 
the  oak-panelled  room.  Ah, how  fanciful  she  was  growing! 
She  would  see  this  homely  parlour  a  thousand  times 
again  ?  Was  she  not  returning  to  Heidelberg  next 
year  ?  Yes,  after  the  formal  banquets,  after  the  busi- 
ness of  regal  pomp  at  Prague,  she  would  come  home  to 
Heidelberg  and  rest  before  she  resumed  the  splendour  of 
a  queen. 

"  Farewell,  madame  mere,"  she  said  gaily.  "  Ah,  be 
not  so  sad,  madame  !  I  am,  as  usual,  of  my  wild  humour 
to  be  merry,  and  you  must  not  grieve ;  we  shall  be  here 
again  before  to-morrow  year  has  waned  ! "  She  embraced 
Louise  Juliane  fondly,  and,  calling  her  ladies,  took  her  way 
down  the  winding  stair  laughing  and  talking.  In  the 
ante-hall  she  found  Karlutz,  and  the  baby  Elizabeth  asleep 
in  her  nurse's  arms. 

"  See,  ma  mere,"  she  called  to  Juliane,  "  I  leave  you 
two  brave  little  consolers  who,  I  warrant,  will  plague  you 
mightily.  But,  madame,  I  shall  rob  you  of  these  naughty 


DEPARTURE  149 

ones  right  swiftly.     I  must  have  them  in  Prague  to  show 
the  Bohemians  what  goodly  bairns  their  King  hath." 

She  bent  and  kissed  Karlutz.  "  Be  a  brave  little  cava- 
lier," she  whispered.  Gently  she  laid  her  hand  on  the 
sleeping  baby.  "  I  will  not  waken  her,  sweet  mite,"  she 
said,  and  passed  out  of  the  stately  portal  to  the  courtyard 
where  the  coach  stood,  with  Prince  Hal  already  ensconced 
in  the  cushioned  seat.  Old  Curly,  the  spaniel,  had 
followed  her  Highness,  and  now  he  tried  to  jump  into 
the  coach. 

"  Not  this  time,  my  Curly,  no !  But  next  year  I  will 
fetch  you  away  too,"  she  said.  The  faithful  dog  looked 
at  her  with  despairing,  questioning  eyes. 

"  Poor  Curly ! "  she  said,  and  bent  to  stroke  him. 
"  No,  good  friend,  I  cannot  take  you."  A  tear  stole  down 
her  Highness's  cheek,  the  others  understood,  but  this  faith- 
ful friend,  she  thought,  only  knew  that  he  was  forsaken. 
She  caught  up  her  monkey — a  descendant  and  namesake 
of  the  first  Jacko — and  with  the  little  brown  creature  in 
her  arms,  she  entered  the  coach. 

"  Why  may  not  Curly  come  too  ?  "  asked  Prince  Hal 
indignantly. 

"  He  is  so  old  and  frail,  dearling,  he  will  be  safest  here," 
she  said. 

"  Poor  Curly,  we  shall  see  him  never  more,"  the  little 
boy  said,  and  fell  to  weeping  bitterly. 

"Next  year,  Hal,  next  year,"  she  answered,  but  her 
heart  misgave  her.  Why  did  every  one  say  "Nevermore?" 
What  foolishness !  To-morrow  year,  or  perhaps  with 
the  third  bloom  of  the  roses,  she  would  be  back  in 
Heidelberg. 

The  heavy  coaches  moved  on.  The  King  Elect  and 
his  suite  rode  beside  Elizabeth  Stuart's  carosse,  despite 
the  beating  rain.  Turning  in  his  saddle,  Friedrich  called 
merrily  :  "  Farewell  till  next  year ! " 

But  for  answer  Louise  Juliane  threw  up  her  arms  with 
a  despairing  cry :  "  Ah,  woe  to  me  !  There  rideth  the 
Palatine  to  doom  ! " 


CHAPTER    IX 

HUMILIATION 

"  The  dreamy  air  is  full  and  overflows 
With  tender  memories  of  the  summertide." 

— LONGFELLOW. 

AFTER  the  tedious  two  days  of  travel  through  the 
/\  rain-drenched  country  from  Heidelberg,  Elizabeth 
^  -^-  Stuart  was  right  happy  to  rest  at  Am  berg.  She 
loved  the  quiet  old  city,  which  lay  as  though  cloistered 
by  the  grim  mediaeval  walls,  guarded  by  ninety-seven 
watch-towers.  The  castle  was  small  and  homely  compared 
with  the  splendour  of  Heidelberg,  but  there  was  something 
infinitely  peaceful  in  that  old-world  garden,  which  sloped 
down  to  the  river  and  the  ancient  bridge,  whose  two 
rounded  arches,  with  their  reflection  on  the  still  surface 
of  the  water,  formed  the  "  town  spectacles,"  as  the  citizens 
said.  It  was  a  prosperous  city,  for  the  country  round  was 
rich  in  iron ;  and  the  townsfolk,  albeit  of  simple,  unpre- 
tentious habits,  were  industrious,  orderly,  and  contented. 
Perhaps  during  these  quiet  days  at  Arnberg  it  was  the 
last  time  in  her  life  that  Elizabeth  Stuart  felt  that  sense 
of  guarded  peace,  of  prosperous  security. 

Early  one  morning  she  sallied  forth  to  the  market-place 
with  Amalia  Solms  and  Prince  Hal.  It  was  her  whim  to 
play  at  the  burgher's  wife  for  once.  She  had  discarded 
her  fardingale  and  had  donned  a  black  velvet  cloak  and  a 
tall,  black  felt  hat  with  a  sweeping  plume,  and  thus  attired 
she  wandered  down  the  narrow  streets.  A  chill  morning 
haze  still  veiled  the  city  after  the  many  days  of  rain,  but 
a  pale  gleam  of  sun  touched  the  red  roofs  and  lit  the 
streets  to  a  dewy,  glistening  beauty.  In  the  market-place, 
before  the  Rathaus,  the  peasants  gathered  round  their 
stalls,  which  were  heaped  up  with  a  wealth  of  vegetables, 


150 


HUMILIATION  151 

with  fresh,  brown-shelled  eggs,  and  creamy  yellow  butter. 
The  merchants1  wives,  followed  by  serving-wenches,  basket 
on  arm,  moved  about  choosing  their  daily  provisions.  The 
worthy  matrons  wore  their  Amberg  costume :  neat  buckled 
shoes,  full  skirts,  bodices  of  plain  dark  cloth,  with  folded 
cross-overs  of  dainty  white  muslin,  and  the  finely -woven, 
gilt  filet  caps,  accurate  copies  of  those  their  grandmothers 
and  great-gran'dams  had  worn.  For  the  world's  fancies 
and  fashions  changed  but  slowly  in  those  days,  and  in 
peaceful  Amberg  love  and  life  passed  on  to  death  softly 
and  at  leisure,  leaving  the  picture  of  the  city's  life  un- 
altered, save  that  other  faces  looked  out  from  the  little 
gilded  caps ;  other  hearts  beat  beneath  the  goffered  muslin 
cross-overs.  Monotony  perchance ;  yet  to  the  wanderer 
there  is  sweetness  in  one  draught  of  that  cup  of  peace 
which  monotony  brews.  True,  for  the  daily  drink  this 
sweetness  is  cloying,  but  to  the  wanderer  it  is  delicious, 
in  some  pause  of  journeying,  to  quaff  this  slow-brewed 
draught.  And  to  Elizabeth  Stuart  it  seemed  very  sweet 
and  wholesome.  She  wandered  on  among  the  market- 
booths,  smiling  at  the  surprise  and  admiration  which  she 
read  on  the  people's  faces,  for  they  soon  recognised  her, 
and  the  whisper  went  round  the  market-place  that  the 
Pfalzgrafin  was  among  them. 

There  clattered  across  the  cobble-stoned  square  a  train 
of  gallants.  Elizabeth  Stuart  drew  back  into  the  shelter 
of  the  Rathaus  portal.  Her  dream  of  leisured,  common- 
place life  was  shattered  by  the  sight  of  the  riders,  for 
among  them  she  recognised  Count  Christopher  Dohna, 
Friedrich's  envoy  to  England,  and  she  saw  that  his  face 
was  overshadowed  with  anxiety.  She  had  long  dreaded 
his  return ;  for,  knowing  her  father's  character,  she  had 
always  feared  that  James's  habitual  procrastination  was 
a  cloak  for  his  wily,  ungenerous  policy,  and  that  in  the 
end  he  would  refuse  his  aid  to  the  Protestant  Princes. 

With  a  heavy  heart  she  retraced  her  steps  to  the  castle. 
It  was  her  destiny,  she  told  herself  sadly,  that  whenever 
she  felt  at  peace  the  shadow  of  State  affairs  should  fall 
upon  her,  and  yet  she  chid  herself,  for  she  knew  that  he 


152  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

who  plays  on  the  great  stage  of  life  must  sacrifice  leisure, 
security,  and  peace.  She  smiled  when  she  thought  of 
herself  living  her  life  in  the  guarded  monotony  of  a  city 
like  Amberg.  No  !  her  place  was  in  the  highway  of  life. 
Better,  she  thought,  to  live  each  hour  in  poignant  ecstacy 
of  endeavour,  of  action,  even  of  tragedy,  than  to  be  lulled 
to  the  sleep  of  death  through  a  lifetime  of  drowsy  content. 

With  head  erect  and  proud  step  she  passed  through 
the  autumn-ravaged  garden  to  the  castle.  In  the  long, 
low,  panelled  parlour  she  found  Friedrich,  Count  Solms, 
Camerarius  the  secretary,  Master  Scultetus,  and  Baron 
Christopher  Dohna.  The  King  Elect  held  a  letter  in  his 
hand ;  his  expression  was  one  of  troubled  perplexity. 

"News  out  of  England,  my  Lord  of  Dohna?"  asked 
Elizabeth  cheerfully  as  she  entered.  "  And  no  good  news, 
as  I  see  by  your  rueful  looks ! " 

Dohna  bent  the  knee  before  her.  "  Your  Majesty," 
he  said,  "  I  am  the  bearer  of  no  tidings,  alack  !  I  have 
no  definite  answer  from  your  royal  father."  Elizabeth 
Stuart  laughed  gaily. 

"  Ah !  sir,  let  me  tell  you  your  own  tidings,  for  a 
daughter's  heart  can  hear  a  parent's  words  from  afar  ! 
My  father  says  he  must  weigh  the  legal  precedents  of  all 
history  ere  he  can  bid  you  call  me  queen  !  My  father 
commands  us  to  wait,  and  " — again  her  eyes  grew  bright 
with  laughter — "  and  we  have  not  waited  ! "  Even  Fried- 
rich  smiled. 

"  'Tis  mighty  fine  to  jest,  ma  reine,"  he  said,  "  but  King 
James  will  never  forgive  that  we  have  not  waited  for  his 
answer." 

"  Never  is  a  long  word,"  she  answered  lightly,  "  a  word 
which  lovers  whisper,  and  angered  parents  thunder  out. 
And  time  has  a  sponge  wherewith  he  washes  out  the  word  ! 
But,  sir,"  she  turned  to  Dohna,  "  had  the  despatches 
anent  our  acceptance  reached  England  ere  you  started  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madame,"  said  Dohna,  "  but  his  Majesty  com- 
plains that  three  days  after  you  had  sent  despatches 
begging  for  his  advice,  the  crown  was  accepted  without 
waiting  for  his  answer." 


HUMILIATION  153 

"  But  we  had  asked  him  before !  Alack !  who  can 
wait  upon  the  slow  wisdom  of  a  greybeard  ? "  cried  the 
King  Elect. 

"  There  is  a  proverb  which  I  have  had  to  hear  from 
my  father  often :  '  Wisdom  and  haste  did  ne'er  go  hand 
in  hand,'  "  said  Elizabeth,  laughing.  "  But  what  does  my 
father  advise  now  ?  "  she  added. 

"That  your  Majesties  should  wait  until  he  lays  the 
matter  before  Parliament.  I  am  commissioned  to  pray 
you  to  wait,"  said  Dohna. 

"We  will  wait  in  Prague,  sir,"  she  answered  proudly. 

In  truth,  how  could  Prince  Friedrich  have  waited 
longer  ?  Many  months  ago  he  had  laid  a  clear  statement 
of  the  facts  before  King  James,  and  those  events,  which 
had  taken  place  since  this  document  had  been  drawn  up, 
could  but  have  added  to  the  force  of  each  argument  which 
he  had  put  forward.  The  Emperor  Matthias'  death  had 
removed  the  monarch  whom  the  Bohemians  had  freely 
accepted  ;  Ferdinand  of  Styria's  election  as  king  had  been 
forced  upon  them,  and  they  had  deposed  him  in  due 
form.  That  Ferdinand  had  been  elected  Emperor,  even 
according  to  Friedrich's  own  vote,  altered  nothing  in  the 
invalidity  of  his  claim  to  the  Bohemian  throne,  for  Bo- 
hemia was  a  separate  and  independent  kingdom.  Thus 
Friedrich  argued,  and  thus  had  Dohna  argued  many  times 
to  King  James.  England  was  bound  to  assist  her  co- 
religionists in  the  event  of  war,  bound  in  honour  and  by 
the  solemn  treaty  with  the  Princes  of  the  Protestant 
Union ;  bound,  too,  by  the  ardent  anti-popish  feeling  of 
the  English  people.  Friedrich  had  asked  for  James' 
advice,  but,  as  his  father-in-law  hesitated  to  give  any 
answer,  he  was  under  no  obligation  to  wait  longer.  He 
was  not  bound  to  wait  for  the  English  King's  permission 
to  accept  the  Bohemian  crown !  This  Camerarius  set 
down  in  his  delicate,  scholarly  handwriting,  and  Dohna 
affirmed  it  all  once  more  to  the  King  Elect,  who  needed 
the  comfortable  cordial  of  assurance  to  keep  his  resolution 
warm. 

In  spite  of  the  disturbing  English  news  the  days  passed 


154  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

right  merrily  in  Ainberg.  Dohna  was  a  polished  courtier, 
distinguished  for  his  elegance  and  knowledge  of  courts; 
and  if  he  brought  but  scanty  political  tidings  out  of  Eng- 
land, yet  he  had  much  to  relate  of  the  doings  at  White- 
hall. How  the  Court  was  more  gross  than  ever  since 
Anne  of  Denmark's  death ;  of  how  Buckingham  ever 
grew  more  splendid,  and  that  even  if  King  James's  affec- 
tion for  him  seemed  to  wane,  yet  was  Buckingham  sure 
of  future  power,  for  Prince  Charles  lavished  on  him  an 
enthusiasm  of  almost  brotherly  love,  Then,  too,  Dohna 
had  tarried  a  day  in  Holland  with  Maurice  of  Orange, 
and  he  had  a  dozen  histories  of  the  doings  at  the  Hague 
to  recount.  Chief  among  these  were  the  scandalous  tales 
told  of  Duke  Christian  of  Brunswick,  son  of  Elizabeth, 
sister  to  Anne  of  Denmark,  and  thus  Elizabeth  Stuart's 
close  kinsman. 

"  What  is  my  cousin  Duke  Christian's  appearance  ?"  she 
asked  Dohna.  Womanlike  she  wished  an  accurate  de- 
scription of  this  "  wicked  monster,"  and,  manlike,  Dohna 
could  but  tell  her  that  Duke  Christian  "  looked  well 
enough,  a  proper  man  if  his  ways  were  like  his  looks." 
For  some  half-year  the  Duke  had  been  in  Holland  study- 
ing the  science  of  war  under  Maurice  of  Orange,  but  it 
seemed  as  though  the  science  of  love  and  revelry  was  more 
to  his  taste. 

"  They  call  him  the  mad  Halberstadter  among  the 
people,  as  I  hear,  madame,"  said  Dohna,  "  yet  his  madness 
is  but  the  madness  of  very  wild  youth." 

"  Why  Halberstadter  ? "  she  asked. 

"  He  is  the  lay  bishop  or  administrator  of  the  see  of 
Halberstadt,"  Dohna  told  her. 

"  A  pretty  bishop  ! "  she  cried.  "  Nay,  I  hope  I  may 
ne'er  set  eyes  on  this  fierce,  evil  cousin  of  mine.  It  is 
the  more  shame  to  him  that,  being  nearly  a  pastor  of 
God,  he  should  do  such  fearsome  deeds  of  lust.  But  tell 
me  more  of  him,  my  Lord  of  Dohna,"  she  added. 

They  were  dark  histories  that  she  heard  :  tales  of  mid- 
night revels,  of  stormy  scenes  and  nocturnal  pranks 
played  on  peaceful  burghers,  and  above  all,  the  shattering 


HUMILIATION  155 

of  marriage  bliss,  or  dulness,  by  this  reckless  devil,  the 
mad  Halberstadter.  Dohna  smiled  to  himself,  for  it 
diverted  him  hugely  to  see  that  even  the  Pearl  of  Eng- 
land, the  Princess  Elizabeth  of  famed  purity,  was  so  eager 
to  hear  the  stories  of  a  young  man's  misdeeds. 

"  But,  sir,"  she  cried  at  length,  "  the  man  is  a  monster 
of  sin ! " 

"  Your  majesty,  c'est  un  charmeur  de  femmes  !  "  Dohna 
answered  with  a  smile. 

"  I  fear  me  such  men  are  the  devil's  emissaries,"  she 
said,  with  a  sigh. 

There  were  merry  doings  at  Amberg  during  those  days 
of  their  Bohemian  Majesties'  sojourn :  stag  hunts  in  the 
forests  near  by,  gallants  riding  through  the  quiet  streets 
of  the  city,  a  stir  and  a  hurry  in  the  market-place,  dancing, 
music,  and  banqueting  in  the  castle.  In  after  times  of 
bitter  trouble  the  Ambergers  looked  back  to  these  days  as 
to  the  most  splendid  they  had  ever  known. 

On  a  golden  autumn  morning  the  King  Elect  rode  west- 
ward from  Amberg.  It  was  as  though  the  dying  year 
had  remembered  her  spring  rhapsody,  and,  after  many 
days  of  tears,  Dame  Nature  smiled  once  more  as  if 
in  love  with  the  sun.  The  woods  exhaled  a  glorious 
fragrancy  of  earth  and  moss,  and  the  doomed  leaves, 
clinging  still  to  the  branches,  rustled  for  the  last  time  in 
the  gentle  breeze.  After  the  desolate  days  the  whole 
earth  seemed  to  exult  in  this  sudden  return  of  light  and 
happiness,  and  Friedrich's  soul  was  filled  with  elation. 
Life  and  youth  pulsed  in  his  veins,  and  he  felt  himself  to 
be  a  man  with  a  splendid  destiny.  There  was  no  cloud 
on  the  horizon  of  his  mind.  This  day  he  rode  to  Rothen- 
burg  to  receive  the  good  wishes  of  the  Princes  of  the 
Union,  to  tell  them  that  he,  their  brother  in  Faith,  went 
forth  to  conquer  the  accursed  oppressor — nay,  that  he 
had  already  conquered  since  he  was  a  king,  and  to  his 
standard  all  the  Protestant  nations  were  sending  warriors. 
War  there  would  be  none ;  he  was  freely  elected  by  a  free 
nation,  and  the  Hapsburger  would  perforce  bow  before 


156  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

the  might  of  so  potent  a  confederation.  He  pictured 
Europe  as  a  peaceful  Arcady.  Gradually  the  ancient 
Harlot  of  Rome  would  forget  her  evil  wiles  and  own  her- 
self defeated  by  the  fair  purity,  the  sweet  reasonableness, 
of  that  scatheless  maiden,  the  New  Faith !  Then,  too, 
the  Lutherans  would  voluntarily  renounce  their  errors, 
and  soon  Europe  would  be  as  a  great  valley  of  peace 
where  all  men  prayed  alike,  strove  alike,  loving  brethren 
in  Faith.  And  all  this  marvel  would  be  accomplished 
through  the  divine  mission  of  Friedrich,  King  of  Bohemia, 
that  Friedrich  who  would  one  day  become  Emperor  of  a 
holy  Evangelical  Empire.  He  saw  himself  a  knightly 
king  kneeling  at  the  feet  of  his  well-beloved  lady,  he  saw 
himself  reverently  crowning  her  Queen,  then  Empress. 
He  rode  on  as  in  a  dream. 

Duke  Christian  of  Anhalt  and  Master  Scultetus  had 
not  accompanied  the  King  Elect ;  Friedrich  had  intimated 
that  he  would  speak  with  the  Princes  of  the  Union  with- 
out his  usual  advisers.  He  had  to  do  with  his  peers ;  he 
would  answer  to  them  alone.  He  feared  old  Anhalt's 
rude  speeches,  he  did  not  desire  quarrels,  and  he  knew 
that  Scultetus  also  was  held  in  abhorrence  by  reason  of 
his  intolerance  of  Lutheranism.  Thus  Friedrich's  retinue 
was  composed  of  a  handful  of  callow  youths.  Duke 
Magnus  of  Wirtemberg  rode  among  them,  and  through 
his  reverie  Friedrich  heard  the  sound  of  ever-recurrent 
laughter,  for  Duke  Magnus  was  a  "  merry  Andrew,"  never 
serious  for  a  moment. 

"  Magnus  ! "  called  Friedrich,  turning  in  his  saddle,  "  I 
pray  you  exhaust  your  store  of  quips  to-day,  for  when  we 
enter  Rothenburg  I  will  have  no  fooling." 

"  Jog-a-jog  on  the  footpath  way 

And  merrily  hent  the  stile-a  ; 
A  merry  heart  goes  all  the  day, 
Your  sad  tires  in  a  mile-a," 

sang  Duke  Magnus.  "  But  I  vow  me,  cousin,  I  will  be  as 
glum  as  Master  Scultetus  himself  when  we  come  to  Rothen- 
burg! Yet,  cousin,  the  merry  monarchs  are  those  the 


HUMILIATION  157 

people  love.  A  king  with  a  smile  gains  hearts,  and 
hearts  are  useful  friends,"  he  said  lightly. 

"  Nay !  I  will  be  no  glum  sovereign,"  said  Friedrich 
joyously  ;  "  life  is  too  full  of  love  to  be  doleful." 

They  cantered  on,  laughing  and  talking  like  happy 
boys,  and  indeed  what  else  was  Friedrich  with  his  twenty- 
three  summers  ?  They  rode  through  a  smiling  country, 
past  many  peaceful  hamlets  where  the  crooked  white- 
washed walls  of  the  peasants'  dwellings  were  decorated  by 
brown  wood-beams  criss-cross  in  haphazard,  irregular 
lines ;  then  towards  Niirnberg,  where  the  broad  fields 
stretched  away  to  wooded  hillocks ;  and  through  fragrant 
forests,  where  the  tall,  straight  trunks  of  the  slender  pine 
trees  formed  dim  aisles  as  of  some  wondrous  cathedral  of 
Nature's  building. 

Leaving  Niirnberg,  they  travelled  on  until  against  the 
sky-line  they  sighted  the  pointed  towers  of  Rothenburg. 
The  dusk  fell  as  they  rode  up  the  long,  steep  incline 
which  leads  from  the  plain  to  the  city.  Grim  and  im- 
pregnable the  town-wall  rose  in  their  sight  as  they  came 
near.  At  the  Roderthurm  they  drew  rein,  and,  having 
announced  their  names  and  qualities,  were  admitted 
through  the  triple  gates  to  the  city.  The  street  lay 
deserted,  save  for  a  dozen  grubby  children  and  a  few 
blear-eyed  gaffers — old  age  and  weak  childhood,  forsaken 
and  neglected — while  the  more  responsible  members  of 
the  community  gaped  and  stared  before  the  houses,  where 
the  magnificent  Princes  of  the  Union  were  lodged.  Thus 
the  chief  actor  in  the  drama  passed  unnoticed  to  the  house 
of  Master  George  Nusch,  the  new  burgomaster,  who  had 
prayed  the  champion  of  Protestantism  to  honour  his  poor 
dwelling-place.  The  worthy  man  received  the  King 
Elect  with  every  mark  of  reverence,  kneeled  at  his  stirrup, 
and  kissed  the  hem  of  his  dusty  riding-coat. 

"  Nay,  master  '  "  cried  Friedrich,  raising  him,  "  I  would 
not  have  you  soil  your  lips  with  dust." 

"  Your  majesty,  I  would  willingly  drink  a  river  of  dust 
and  blood  could  my  draught  empty  the  cup  of  tribula- 
tion which  hath  been  held  to  the  lips  of  those  who  but 


158  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

thirsted  for  the  pure  water  of  the  Faith,"  said   Nusch 
solemnly. 

"  Sir  Burgomaster,"  replied  Friedrich,  with  a  touch  of 
youthful  grandiloquence,  "  it  shall  be  my  mission  on  earth 
to  give  the  living  stream  of  salvation,  untainted  by  blood 
I  pray,  to  my  comrades  of  the  Reformed  Faith." 

At  this  moment  a  billet  was  handed  to  Friedrich.  He 
noted  that  it  bore  the  superscription :  "  To  his  Highness 
the  Elector  Palatine."  It  was  a  brief  missive  from  the 
Duke  of  Wirtemberg  craving  immediate  private  speech 
with  his  friend  and  kinsman.  Friedrich  replied  cour- 
teously, that  he  would  speak  with  his  Highness  on  the 
morrow,  but  that  this  evening,  being  greatly  weary  with 
travel,  he  prayed  the  Duke  to  hold  him  excused.  For 
Friedrich  desired  no  premature  meetings  with  the  Princes 
of  the  Union.  He  awaited  his  audience  with  his  com- 
peers on  the  morrow  in  the  Council  Chamber  of  the 
Rathaus. 

The  morning  dawned  ominous  and  clouded.  Before 
nine  of  the  clock  the  Princes  of  the  Union  were  seen 
slowly  proceeding  to  the  Rathaus.  There  were  his  Grace 
of  Wirtemberg,  uncle  to  Duke  Magnus;  the  Dukes  of 
Baden  and  Neuburg,  his  Highness  of  Ansbach,  the  Duke 
of  Kulmbach,  the  Elector  of  Brandenburg,  the  Landgraf 
of  Hesse,  and  the  venerable  representatives  of  the  free 
towns  of  the  Empire.  The  Elector  of  Saxony  was  there, 
and  many  other  nobles  of  high  name.  Protestantism — 
Lutheran  and  Calvinistic — was  fully  represented,  a  grave 
and  sober  company  of  statesmen  and  patrician  citizens. 

As  the  church  clocks  rang  out  the  ninth  hour  the  King 
Elect  of  Bohemia  took  his  way  from  Master  Nusch's 
dwelling  in  the  Schmiedgasse  to  the  Rathaus.  A  heavy 
silence  brooded  over  the  town,  so  that  the  peaceful  splash- 
ing of  the  street  fountain  sounded  almost  noisy.  On  the 
market-place  before  the  Rathaus  were  groups  of  peasant 
women,  in  their  large,  black  ribbon  head-dresses,  their 
ample  skirts  of  sombre  cloth,  gay  embroidered  aprons, 
white  stockings,  and  buckled  shoes.  The  men  in  their 
long,  full-skirted,  blue  cloth  coats,  adorned  with  many 


HUMILIATION  159 

rows  of  silver  buttons,  with  black  leather  breeches  to  the 
knee,  white  stockings,  and,  like  their  womenkind,  shoes 
with  broad  silver  buckles.  A  number  of  townsfolk  were 
gathered  there  too — citizens'  wives  in  their  little  caps 
of  finely  gilded  fillet-work,  in  their  full  skirts  of  rich 
cloth,  and  girdles  of  silver,  wherefrom  hung  the  house- 
hold keys,  and  the  little  leather  satchels  wherein  the 
Frau  Sattlermeister,  the  Frau  Fleischermeister,  the  Frau 
Schreinermeister  carried  their  daily  household  money. 

King  Friedrich  walked  swiftly  and  alone,  his  noble 
retinue  following  on  foot  a  few  paces  back.  In  their 
wake  was  led  the  King's  chestnut  steed,  with  arched 
neck  and  small  proud  head,  a  mighty  gelding  of  a 
Flemish  stock,  crossed  with  an  Arab  breed.  This  was 
"  Hurry,"  the  king's  favourite  horse.  A  feeble  cheer 
went  up  as  Friedrich  passed,  and  high  above  the  manly 
voices,  came  the  women's  shrill  trebles  calling :  "  Hail, 
King  Friedrich  !  "  He  smiled  at  them,  this  brown-eyed 
youth,  to  whom  women  always  gave  a  kindliness.  King 
of  so  little  yet,  save  of  women's  friendship — friendship, 
not  love ;  yet  debonnair  and  very  bonny  he  looked 
in  his  rich  brown  coat — viol-brown  as  it  was  called,  a 
colour  much  favoured  by  Elizabeth  Stuart.  He  wore 
riding  boots  and  gilded  spurs,  a  sword  clanked  at  his 
side,  and  on  his  head  was  a  wide,  brown  felt  hat,  with  a 
sweeping  feather  fastened  by  a  jewelled  buckle.  Half 
the  time  the  hat  was  in  his  hand  as  he  answered  to  the 
plaudits  of  the  crowd,  answered  with  a  smile.  What 
had  Magnus  said  ?  "A  king  who  can  smile  wins  hearts, 
and  hearts  are  right  useful  in  the  world's  warfare."  But 
no  !  it  could  have  been  no  shrewd  teaching  which  in- 
spired Friedrich's  smile  that  day!  He  was  truly  uplifted, 
proud  and  glad,  sure  of  his  destiny,  confident  of  himself. 
At  that  moment,  surely  a  man  for  a  queen  to  love. 
"  Hail,  King  Friedrich  !  Champion  of  the  Faith  !  "  He 
strode  up  the  shallow  steps  of  the  Rathaus  and  beneath 
the  narrow  portal,  whence  the  stairway  rose  like  the 
twisted  leaf  of  some  giant  stone  plant.  He  paused  in 
surprise,  for  he  was  suddenly  confronted  by  the  flare  of 


160  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

torches.  The  Burgomaster,  mindful  of  the  darkness  of 
the  autumn  morning,  had  posted  torch-bearers  on  the 
staircase.  King  Friedrich  stepped  forward  and,  bending, 
peered  up  through  the  narrow  well  of  the  stairway.  He 
started,  for  distinct  in  the  light  of  the  topmost  torch,  he 
saw  the  eagle  of  Empire  emblazoned  on  the  ceiling.  By 
some  trick  of  vision  this  eagle,  although  in  reality  quite 
small,  is  made  to  appear  large  and  overpowering,  and  it 
had  been  the  master-builder,  Leonhard  Weidmann's  boast, 
that  by  his  art  he  had  magnified  Empire  in  the  sight  of 
all  men.  And  King  Friedrich,  seeing  this,  thought  that 
an  omen  of  his  own  destiny  was  revealed  to  him.  Al- 
ready he  deemed  that  the  divine  right  of  kings  had 
given  him  a  clearer  vision  of  the  things  of  the  future. 
Yes,  the  unknown  days  held  an  Empire  for  him  he 
thought — a  great  reformed  Empire.  He  strode  on  with 
head  erect  and  sure  tread. 

In  the  ante-hall  a  group  of  young  esquires,  of  burghers' 
sons,  and  underling  clerks,  bowed  deeply  as  he  passed. 
An  usher  lifted  a  heavy  crimson  curtain,  and  Friedrich, 
King  Elect  of  Bohemia,  stood  on  the  threshold  of  the 
Council  Chamber. 

It  was  dark  in  the  lofty  hall,  for  the  windows  faced 
due  westward,  and  thus  lay  in  shadow.  Only  through 
the  one  tall,  south  window  came  a  cold  light,  which 
fell  straight  on  the  ancient  carven  stone  judgment-chair, 
whence,  during  three  hundred  years,  the  judges  had 
spoken  when  death  had  been  a  criminal's  doom.  It  was 
bitter  cold  in  the  vast  stone  hall.  On  the  long,  narrow 
centre-table  four  waxen  candles  shed  a  pale  light  on  the 
faces  of  the  assembled  members  of  the  Union,  who  sat  at 
the  table,  while  behind  them  stood  a  few  clerks  and 
notaries. 

The  princes  rose  as  Friedrich  entered.  He  bowed  to 
each  according  to  precedency,  and  they  responded  cour- 
teously, if  coldly.  For  a  moment  Friedrich  stood  silently 
at  the  head  of  the  Council  board.  His  gaze  wandered 
round  the  gloomy  Council  Chamber.  Everything  was 
indistinct  save  the  judgment-chair  at  the  end  of  the  hall, 


HUMILIATION  161 

and,  showing  wan  in  the  candle-light,  the  faces  of  those 
who  sat  at  the  table.  There  was  something  funereal  and 
ghastly  in  the  silence  and  in  the  bearing  of  those  solemn 
men.  The  table,  with  its  covering  of  sombre  cloth,  looked 
like  a  long,  black  coffin ;  and  the  flickering  light  of  those 
four  waxen  tapers  seemed  like  the  candles  round  a  bier. 

Friedrich  shivered  a  little.  It  was  as  though  the 
gloom  laid  a  tangible  touch  on  his  heart.  But  his  elation 
was  proof  against  the  grim  impression,  and  in  an  unfal- 
tering voice  he  invoked  the  blessing  of  God  upon  the 
deliberations  of  the  Council.  Solemnly  the  princes  re- 
sponded "  Amen  ! "  and  their  voices  re-echoed  hollow  in 
the  stone  hall. 

Then  King  Friedrich  began  the  speech  which  he  had 
rehearsed  so  often  in  his  mind. 

"  My  Lords  of  the  Evangelical  Union,"  he  said,  "  I  come 
in  person  to  inform  you  that  after  due  consideration  and 
earnest  prayer  I  have  accepted  the  crown  of  Bohemia.  Of 
the  undoubted  right  of  the  Bohemians  to  elect  their  King 
I  need  not  remind  you,  for  the  conditions  are  as  familiar 
to  you  as  to  me.  The  House  of  Hapsburg  has  no  heredi- 
tary rights,  for,  indeed,  the  very  formula  used  for  several 
generations  in  the  legal  documents :  '  King  by  acceptance 
of  Bohemia,'  denotes  that,  an  a  nation  can  accept  a  king, 
they  are  obviously  free  to  reject  one  who  is  not  to  their 
liking.  Further,  my  Lords,  no  quibbling  legal  document, 
no  question  of  precedent,  can  stand  before  the  needs 
of  a  noble  and  oppressed  country.  When  cruelty  and 
tyranny  have  ground  a  nation  to  the  dust,  then  is  revolt 
a  fair  and  proper  thing.  Yet  there  is  a  greater  need  than 
life,  a  more  urgent  call  than  even  sorrow  and  pain  can 
utter,  and  that  is  the  salvation  of  the  soul  to  all  eternity. 
Whosoever  wavers  before  the  task  of  saving  his  soul  at  the 
expense  of  defying  an  usurping  tyrant, that  man  is  accursed. 
And  the  brethren  of  our  Faith  in  Bohemia  must  either 
abjure  their  religion  to  embrace  the  tenets  of  Antichrist, 
or  they  must  throw  off  the  yoke  of  the  Romish  Haps- 
burger.  This  the  Bohemians  have  done  bravely  and 
openly,  and  they  have  chosen  me  as  their  King.  My 

L 


162  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Lords,  I  pray  you  give  me  your  good  wishes  for  the 
accomplishment  of  what  is  my  mission  here  on  earth :  to 
rule  my  new  kingdom  to  the  glory  of  God  and  the  up- 
rooting of  the  foul  tyrant,  the  servant  of  the  Scarlet 
Woman  of  Rome !  " 

He  paused  with  flushed  cheeks  and  glowing  eyes.  There 
was  silence  in  the  hall.  Friedrich  looked  from  one  to  the 
other,  but  the  princes  avoided  his  glance.  A  little  throb 
of  disappointment  ran  through  the  buoyancy  of  his  mood. 

"  My  Lords,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  wavered,  "  I  await 
your  answer." 

Now  the  princes  looked  at  one  another,  and  Friedrich 
saw  how  a  half  smile  dawned  on  the  faces  of  some — an 
indulgent  smile  like  we  give  to  the  harmless  nonsense 
spoken  by  a  child.  The  Duke  of  Kulmbach  bent  and 
whispered  to  the  Elector  of  Brandenburg,  then  he  turned 
to  Friedrich. 

"  We  knew  that  your  Highness  had  listened  to  the 
rebels'  talk,"  he  said,  not  unkindly,  "  but  we  deemed  it  im- 
probable that  your  advisers  would  permit  you  to  harbour 
for  an  instant  so  mad  a  scheme.  Believe  me,  Palsgrave, 
this  is  the  wild  dream  of  youth." 

"  The  dream  of  youth  is  nobler  than  the  faint-hearted 
wisdom  of  old  age  ! "  cried  Friedrich  hotly. 

"  Your  dream  of  youth  is  treason  against  your  over-lord, 
sir ! "  growled  the  Elector  of  Saxony. 

"  I  have  no  over-lord  save  God  and  my  own  conscience," 
retorted  the  King  Elect. 

"This  is  rebel's  talk,"  interposed  the  Duke  of  Wirtemberg. 

"  Yes,  we  are  rebels  against  tyranny  !  Yes,  we  are  rebels 
against  an  usurper  who  would  take  our  faith  from  us ! " 
cried  Friedrich  passionately.  "  My  Lords,  my  Lords,  you 
speak  as  though  all  this  were  news  to  you.  Have 
you  not,  each  and  all,  advised  with  me  for  the  sake  of  our 
brethren  in  Faith  ?  And  now  you  speak  as  though  this 
were  some  wild  dream — some  sudden  scheme — I  do  not 
comprehend.  My  kinsman  of  Neuburg,  what  do  these 
gentlemen  mean  ? "  he  finished  weakly,  appealingly. 

"  You  have  gone  too  far,  my  Lord,"  said  Neuburg  coldly. 


HUMILIATION  163 

"  Too  far  ?  How  can  a  man  go  too  far  who  aims  at  a 
goal  and  wins  ? "  Friedrich  cried,  with  a  return  of  confi- 
dence. "  I,  the  Head  of  this  Union,  have  undertaken  a 
larger  task,  yet  I  am  still  your  acknowledged  leader,  and 
I  command  you  to  join  with  me  in  my  mission  against 
tyranny  and  oppression !  For  your  honours'  sake,  you 
cannot  desert  the  standard  of  Protestantism  !  The  great 
ordeal  has  come !  We  have  done  with  polemics,  done 
with  intrigue,  and  in  the  sight  of  all  men  we  now  raise 
the  banner  of  God  against  the  hosts  of  Antichrist.  My 
Lords,  there  is  some  misunderstanding  between  us !  You 
are  my  friends,  and  my  father's  friends ;  we  are  brethren 
in  Faith.  In  the  name  of  Christ  I  conjure  you  to  give 
me  your  friendship  and  the  assurance  that,  an  I  have  need 
of  your  aid,  you  will  not  hang  back." 

A  rough  laugh  greeted  this  passionate  speech.  "  Our 
aid  to  keep  you  King,"  jeered  the  Duke  of  Saxony. 

"  By  my  troth,  by  all  I  love  and  reverence,  that  is  a 
lie  ! "  cried  Friedrich  wildly.  "  I  go  to  Bohemia  as  the 
chosen  of  God  to  guard  His  Church  from  harm  !  " 

"  Chosen  of  a  few  rebels !  Take  care  your  Highness  is 
not  flung  into  a  dung-heap  in  Bohemia,"  said  Saxony 
gruffly.  Many  laughed. 

"  My  Lords,  you  treat  me  mighty  scurvily,"  Friedrich 
said,  with  dignity.  "  My  Lords,  have  you  at  least  no  good 
words  to  give  me  ? " 

"  Listen,  your  Highness,"  said  the  Duke  of  Kulmbach 
gravely.  "  We  have  one  good  word  to  give  you :  Go  back 
home  to  Heidelberg,  and  live  your  life  in  peace  and  plenty. 
Your  young  enthusiasm  is  no  use  in  statescraft.  Go  home, 
Palsgrave  Friedrich,  and  forget  this  madness." 

"  Never ! "  cried  Friedrich  ;  "  I  am  pledged  to  Bohemia. 
Would  you  have  me  play  the  coward — have  me  turn  back 
like  a  white-livered  dastard  ? " 

"  I  would  have  you  packed  off  to  bed  like  a  froward 
urchin,  which,  upon  mine  honour,  is  all  you  are ! "  roared 
the  Duke  of  Saxony. 

The  rough  jest  pleased  the  assembly,  and  a  storm 
of  pent-up  merriment  burst  forth ;  the  princes  in  loud 


164  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

laughter,  and  the  clerks  and  notaries  in  that  sniggering 
cachinnation  wherewith  the  obsequious  greet  the  witti- 
cisms of  their  superiors. 

Friedrich  stood  for  a  moment  with  blanched  lips  and 
haggard  face.  It  was  like  some  sudden  darkening  of  the 
world  before  his  eyes,  as  if  some  one  had  struck  him  a 
blow  on  the  temple  which  made  his  senses  reel.  What 
had  happened  ?  What  had  he  done  ?  The  reality  of 
life  seemed  gone ;  he  was  in  an  evil  dream. 

He  essayed  to  speak ;  but  though  his  lips  formed  words, 
they  were  drowned  by  the  laughter.  With  a  gesture  of 
despair  he  turned  away  and  dashed  out  of  the  council 
chamber. 

In  the  ante-hall  he  had  to  shoulder  his  way  through 
the  crowd,  which  moved  hastily  aside,  while  a  murmur 
went  up :  "  The  King."  Friedrich  stumbled  down  the 
winding  stair  like  a  drunken  man.  Outside  a  feeble  cheer 
greeted  him  :  "  Hail,  Palsgrave  !  Hail,  King  Friedrich  ! " 
Must  all  the  world  mock  him  ?  he  thought  wildly. 

His  horse  stood  at  the  Rathaus  steps,  but  Duke  Magnus 
and  the  other  gentlemen  were  at  the  far  side  of  the  market- 
place laughing  and  talking  with  a  group  of  peasant  maidens. 

Friedrich  muttered  something  to  the  esquire  who  held 
the  horse. 

"  Your  Majesty's  pardon — I  did  not  hear ! "  began  the 
youth. 

The  King  pushed  him  roughly  aside,  flung  himself 
upon  his  horse,  and,  without  a  word  to  the  astonished 
esquire,  galloped  away  as  though  pursued  by  some  dread 
enemy.  And,  in  truth,  he  was  hunted  by  the  direst  foe  of 
youth's  enthusiasm  :  the  harsh  ridicule  of  cold  experience. 


CHAPTER  X 

KING   FRIEDRICH'S  RIDE 

"  Fellow-creature  I  am  ;  fellow-servant  of  God : 
Can  man  fathom  God's  dealings  with  us  ? 
The  wide  gulf  that  parts  us  may  yet  be  no  wider 
Than  that  which  parts  you  from  some  being  more  blest, 
And  there  may  be  more  links  'twixt  the  horse  and  his  rider 
Than  ever  your  shallow  philosophy  guess'd  ! " 

— A.  LINDSAY  GORDON. 

THE  King  galloped  wildly  onwards  down  the  narrow 
street  to  the  Roderthor.  Faster — he  would  go 
faster !  He  spurred  his  horse  cruelly.  The  gates 
stood  wide  open,  and  the  sentries,  leaning  lazily  against  the 
wall,  were  laughing  and  jesting.  As  the  King  dashed  past 
them  a  loud  guffaw  met  his  hearing.  Probably  they  laughed 
at  some  witless,  lewd  saying,  but  to  Friedrich  it  seemed  that 
their  ridicule  was  directed  at  him.  They  stared  as  he 
galloped  by,  but,  although  the  Palsgrave  was  well  known 
to  them,  they  failed  to  recognise  him  in  the  rider  with  the 
wide  felt-hat  pulled  down  over  the  brows,  and  it  was  only 
after  he  had  passed  on  his  headlong  course  that  they 
realised  that  the  fugitive  had  worn  the  broad,  blue  ribbon 
on  his  breast,  that  ribbon  of  the  English  Garter  which 
the  Palsgrave  always  bore,  some  said  because,  being  Eng- 
land's order,  it  seemed  to  him  to  be  another  love-token  of 
Elizabeth  Stuart. 

The  thud  of  the  horse's  hoofs  sounded  as  the  rumble  of 
distant  thunder  when  Friedrich  galloped  over  the  wooden 
boards  of  the  outer  drawbridge.  Like  a  madman  he 
dashed  down  the  dusty  Nlirnberg  road,  which  wound  like 
a  long,  white,  sinuous  snake  between  the  broad,  russet 
fields  of  stubble,  whence  the  waving  yellow  wheat  had 
been  reaped.  On  the  horizon  stretched  the  blue-black 
line  of  the  distant  pine-woods. 


166  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Under  the  desolate,  slate-coloured  sky  the  solitary  rider 
sped  onwards.  On — on — bringing  the  agony  of  human 
thought  into  the  deserted  country  scene  of  silent  fields 
and  dreaming  marsh  lands.  A  peewit  rose  out  of  a 
clump  of  rushes,  a  covey  of  partridges  flew  with  a  burr 
of  wings  and  shrill,  tweaking  cries  from  some  quiet 
hiding-place  of  deep  grasses ;  but  otherwise  the  stillness 
was  only  broken  by  the  thud  of  the  hurrying  hoofs  of 
the  Flemish  gelding,  ridden  by  that  despairing,  black- 
cloaked  rider. 

There  was  madness  and  despair  in  King  Friedrich's 
heart :  it  seemed  to  him  that  all  the  joy,  all  the  sanity  of 
life  had  been  taken  from  him ;  as  if  some  awful  flood  of 
hopeless  misery  had  surged  over  him.  In  his  ears  the 
jeering  words  and  laughter  in  the  Rothenburg  Rathaus 
rang  on — he  saw  the  hostile,  mocking  faces.  His  soul 
was  divided  by  blind,  impotent  fury  and  utter  bewilder- 
ment. His  rage  hurt  him — turned  him  physically  sick. 
He  galloped  on  with  bent  head.  Once  his  horse  stumbled  ; 
he  wrenched  him  up  roughly,  and  buried  his  sharp  spurs 
in  the  animal's  trembling  flanks.  On — on ! — he  only  knew 
that  he  must  hurry  on. 

What  had  changed  ?  Why  had  the  Princes  turned 
against  him  ?  They  had  known  of  the  whole  matter  from 
the  outset — and  yet  now  they  had  spoken  to  him  as  to  a 
foolish,  rash  boy — a  trifler — an  absurd  meddler  in  grave 
affairs.  And  he  ?  He  had  said  nothing  to  them — he  had 
answered  their  taunts  by  flight !  Fool  that  he  was  !  Fool ! 
Fool !  !  He  struck  his  brow  with  his  clenched  fist ;  the 
blow  brought  the  tears  to  his  eyes,  and  suddenly  he  sobbed 
aloud.  Yes,  fool  that  he  was  !  But  what  would  it  have 
availed  had  he  spoken  to  those  cruel,  unjust  men  ?  They 
knew  already — had  known  all  the  negotiations — and  they 
had  jeered  at  him.  Was  he  mad  ?  Perhaps  he  had 
dreamed  it  all  ?  Or  perhaps  Scultetus,  Duke  Christian, 
Maurice  of  Nassau,  even  the  Duke  of  Bouillon,  had  con- 
spired against  him,  had  intrigued  to  make  him  the 
laughing-stock  of  Germany  ?  It  seemed  to  him  that,  like 
another  Ishmael,  his  hand  was  against  every  man  and 


KING  FRIEDRICH'S  RIDE  167 

every  man's  hand  was  against  him.  He  was  baffled — 
spurned  by  those  who  should  have  been  his  friends. 

Then,  like  balsam  on  his  wounded  spirit,  came  the 
thought  of  Elizabeth.  It  was  as  though  she  laid  her  hand 
on  his  heart,  soothing  the  tempestuous  agony.  Ah  !  she 
knew — she  understood — she  was  true  to  him.  He  knew 
now  why  he  rode  so  wildly :  he  must  get  to  her ;  he  must 
hide  his  shame  and  misery,  his  perplexity,  in  the  refuge 
of  her  belief  in  him,  of  her  tenderness,  of  her  brave  sanity. 
He  urged  his  horse  onward.  He  would  go  mad  if  he  did 
not  get  to  her  soon ! 

But,  perhaps,  she  too  would  have  joined  the  conspiracy 
against  him  ?  He  jerked  his  horse  back  on  its  haunches. 
The  cessation  of  movement,  the  stillness  of  the  fields,  the 
soft  touch  of  the  damp,  cool  air  on  his  brow  calmed  his 
despair  for  an  instant.  He  glanced  back  along  the  winding 
road.  Far  off  towards  Rothenburg  he  saw  a  little  cloud 
of  dust.  He  strained  his  vision.  Yes,  it  must  be  a  rider — 
some  one  pursuing  him  !  Perhaps  the  Princes  of  the  Union 
had  relented — had  realised  how  base  a  thing  their  mockery 
had  been — and  had  sent  a  rider  to  call  him  back  ?  But 
they  should  wait  long — those  cruel,  sneering  renegades — 
they  should  wait  long  before  he  would  return  to  them  ! 
They  should  learn  that  he  was  a  king,  a  man  with  a  lofty, 
serious  mission  in  the  world ;  they  should  bitterly  repent 
their  insolence !  He  was  no  callow  youth  to  be  treated 
thus.  His  twenty-three  summers  had  made  him,  he 
deemed,  sufficiently  mature  to  need  no  reproval  from  grave 
statesmen  !  A  measure  of  self-confidence  returned  to  him. 
He  drew  himself  to  his  full  height  in  his  saddle.  Taking 
off  the  heavy  felt-hat  he  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  brow, 
and  moistened  his  parched  lips  with  his  tongue.  His  horse 
was  breathing  in  sharp  gasps.  Would  he  carry  him  to 
Amberg  ?  It  was  a  mighty  journey  without  a  halt,  but  by 
the  bridle-path  through  the  woods  it  was  shorter  than  by 
the  main  road  through  Niirnberg.  For  nothing  that  man 
could  offer — not  even  for  the  Imperial  crown  itself — would 
he  ride  back  to  Rothenburg  that  day. 

How  slowly  the  rider  came !     Doubtless  he  was  some 


168  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

sluggard  greybeard  sent  by  those  other  greybeards,  the 
Princes  of  the  Union,  Friedrich  told  himself  scornfully. 

At  length  the  rider  drew  near.  Friedrich  saw  that  he 
wore  the  Palatine  livery.  So  they  had  sent  one  of  his  own 
men  to  call  him  back  ?  The  man  galloped  up.  For  an 
instant  the  King  Elect  looked  at  him  in  silence. 

"  What  is  your  message  ?  What  do  the  Princes  send  to 
me  ? "  he  asked  haughtily. 

"  I  have  no  message,  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  man 
breathlessly ;  "  I  saw  you  ride  away,  and  as  my  horse  was 
the  only  one  ready  saddled  I  rode  after  you.  Your  pardon, 
your  Majesty,  but  you  cannot  ride  thus  alone." 

"You — have — no — message?  No  one  sent  you?" 
said  Friedrich  slowly. 

"  None,  sire.  Duke  Magnus  and  the  other  gentlemen 
went  to  the  Rathaus  after  you  rode  away.  But  I  have 
ridden  often  with  your  honoured  father  and  with  you :  I 
could  not  let  you  ride  through  the  country  alone,"  the 
man  said  humbly. 

So  the  only  one  to  follow  him,  the  only  faithful  one 
among  them  all,  was  this  old  retainer,  a  man  to  whom  in 
happy  days  he  had  half-unconsciously  thrown  a  careless 
word  of  courteous  greeting  ! 

"  I  thank  you,  friend,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Will  you 
follow  me  to  Amberg  ?  I  ride  on  very  urgent  business." 
Without  another  word  he  spurred  his  horse  forward. 
Once  more  the  wheel  of  distraught,  agonised  thought 
whirled  in  his  brain ;  through  it  all  there  was  but  one 
clear  idea — this,  that  he  must  reach  Amberg — Amberg 
and  Elizabeth  Stuart.  Once  or  twice  his  follower  called 
to  him  : 

"  Stay,  your  Highness,  or  your  horse  will  fail  you ! " 
For  a  few  moments  Friedrich  halted ;  but  then,  though 
the  poor  beast  strove  for  breath,  he  galloped  on  again. 
On,  over  field  and  marshland,  thundering  through  the 
peaceful  hamlets,  deserted  for  the  most  part  by  the  villagers 
at  work  ploughing  the  fields ;  though  sometimes  groups  of 
children  stared,  or  peasant  women,  framed  in  the  darkness 
of  narrow  doorways,  stood  and  watched  the  riders  pass ;  or 


KING  FRIEDRICH'S  RIDE  169 

perhaps  a  tottering  gaffer  in  a  village  street  would  shout 
hoarsely  at  them,  or  mutter  through  toothless  gums, 
something  that  may  have  been  a  blessing  or  the  peevish 
malediction  of  the  senile.  But  hurrying  riders  were  no 
uncommon  disturbers  of  the  hamlets'  peace :  "  Princes 
and  their  messengers  ride  the  devil's  nags,"  the  saying 
went  among  the  peasants. 

On  through  pine  woods  and  beech  groves,  where  the 
fallen  leaves  lay  deep  deadening  the  sound  of  the  horses' 
hoofs.  Once  the  horses  stopped  before  a  little  rill  of  pure 
water  which  trickled  across  the  bridle-path. 

"Let  him  drink  a  mouthful,  your  Highness;  for  God's 
sake,  breathe  him  a  moment  or  he  will  fail  you!"  the  hench- 
man urged.  "  Alas  !  the  King  is  mad  ! "  the  man  muttered 
to  himself,  for  Friedrich  stared  at  him  with  wild,  unseeing 
eyes ;  yet  for  a  little  space  he  let  his  horse  stand  still.  Then 
again  he  struck  his  spurs  into  the  poor  animal's  heaving 
sides,  and  the  wild  race  began  once  more.  On — on 

They  were  past  Niirnberg  now.  The  bridle  track  lay 
across  the  stubble  fields  beyond  the  town  walls.  As  they  sped 
through  a  village  again  the  henchman  called  to  Friedrich — 

"  Stay,  your  Highness,  and  rest  an  hour  at  this  wayside 
inn !  Only  an  hour,  your  Highness,  I  can  no  more ! " 
But  the  King  Elect  paid  no  heed ;  he  galloped  on  savagely. 
How  could  he  wait  for  food  and  drink  ?  Wait !  who  had 
said  wait  ?  That  was  King  James's  word  !  Perhaps  if  he 
had  waited  for  the  English  King's  advice  the  Princes  of 
the  Union  would  not  have  dared  to  fail  him — to  insult 
him  thus  ?  But  they  had  known  !  The  rhythmic  thud  of 
the  horses'  hoofs  wove  itself  into  a  refrain  in  his  distraught 
mind  :  "  They  have  known — they  have  known — "  and 
then  again :  "  My  hand  against  them — always  now — for 
they  have  known — "  Laughter !  who  had  laughed  at 
him  ? — who  jeered  at  him  ?  The  illusion  was  so  complete 
that  he  checked  his  horse  to  listen — it  was  only  the 
henchman  calling  to  him  again : — 

"  I  can  no  more — my  horse  is  spent !  Wait,  your  High- 
ness ! "  The  King  waved  his  arm  in  a  gesture  of  angry 
dismissal,  and  urged  his  failing  steed  on — on 


170  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

He  was  alone  now ;  the  henchman  had  fallen  behind. 
Alone  !  of  course  he  was  alone — he,  Ishmael,  the  outcast, 
whose  hand  was  against  every  man ! 

The  light  of  the  autumn  day  grew  dim,  but  he  was  not 
far  from  Amberg  now ;  only  a  few  more  leagues  to  ride  and 
he  would  kneel  before  Elizabeth  Stuart  and  rest  his  head 
upon  her  breast.  He  knew  each  yard  of  the  road  now — 
each  tiny  grassy  valley  with  the  brown  rocks  standing 
out  so  quaintly ;  each  clump  of  fir-trees  was  familiar.  On, 
poor  horse — on — only  a  few  more  leagues — on — on 

The  mist  was  sweeping  up  in  long,  low,  white  clouds 
from  the  valleys,  and  the  trees  were  indistinct  in  the  half 
light.  The  horse  galloped  feebly,  the  thud-thud  of  his 
hoofs  was  irregular,  faltering,  but  the  chill  of  the  damp 
mist  against  his  breast  and  in  his  straining,  foam-flecked 
nostrils  refreshed  him,  and  he  responded  gallantly  to  the 
cruel  urging  of  his  rider's  spur,  and  to  the  jerks  of  the  bridle 
against  the  bit.  Then,  of  a  sudden,  he  stumbled  and  fell, 
flinging  Friedrich  violently  forward.  The  King  extricated 
himself  from  the  stirrups  and  stood  beside  the  quivering, 
panting  animal. 

"  A  few  more  leagues !  Up,  you  brute,  up  ! "  he  called 
wildly,  and  wrenched  at  the  bridle.  Poor  Hurry  lay  still 
for  a  moment,  with  straining,  bloodshot  eyes  which  im- 
plored dumbly  for  mercy;  then  slowly,  weakly,  he  struggled 
up  and  stood  trembling.  The  King  flung  himself  into  the 
saddle,  and  once  more  the  jaded,  broken  steed  galloped  on. 

The  night  fell  and  a  little  moaning  breeze  sprang  up. 
Twice — thrice — poor  Hurry  staggered,  and  the  King  was 
forced  to  let  him  stand,  for  his  breath  came  in  whistling, 
laboured  gasps,  and  it  seemed  as  though  he  must  fall; 
but  Friedrich  urged  him  on  and  the  ruthless  spurs  tore 
his  sides.  Bravely,  magnificently,  fighting  the  death 
in  his  failing  limbs,  the  cracking  agony  in  his  heart,  the 
horse  sped  on,  hour  after  hour ;  each  mile  he  went  slower, 
more  weakly,  but  still  on — on — on  beneath  that  urging 
hand — beneath  those  cruel  spurs.  Mile  after  mile  they 
traversed.  How  long  the  well-known  road  seemed  in  the 
darkness ! 


KING  FRIEDRICH'S  RIDE  171 

They  passed  through  a  village  ;  all  was  quiet,  all  slept — 
the  curfew  had  tolled  hours  since.  It  was  night.  At  last, 
below  in  the  valley  there  shone  a  few  twinkling  lights  from 
the  Amberg  watch-towers.  The  rider  saw  them,  and  a  cry  of 
joy  burst  from  his  lips  With  a  brave  effort  the  heroic  horse 
galloped  onward  down  the  slope  and  over  the  plain. 

The  Vilsthor  was  shut,  but  King  Friedrich's  cry  brought 
a  sleepy  gatekeeper  to  peer  through  the  slit-window  in  the 
heavy  gate.  Slowly  the  great  bolts  and  ponderous  bars 
were  withdrawn  and  the  door  creakingly  swung  open. 
Again  the  spurs  rent  the  horse's  flanks,  and  he  struggled 
forward  through  the  cobble-stoned  street  to  the  Castle 
moat;  but  here  on  the  bridge  he  failed,  staggered, 
stumbled,  plunged  forward,  stumbled  again  and  fell  prone. 
That  last  gallop  had  rent  his  heart  in  twain — so  near  the 
haven  of  rest.  Alas  !  that  gallop  had  killed  him.  Feebly 
the  slim,  graceful  limbs  twitched ;  for  the  last  time  those 
brave,  faithful  eyes,  fast  glazing  now,  yearned  up  in  an 
agony  of  supplication,  praying  for  forgiveness  to  the  rider 
who  had  ridden  him  to  death.  The  King  stood  gazing 
on  the  one  friend  who,  on  a  day  of  failure,  had  not  failed 
him ;  on  a  day  of  lonely  pain,  had  not  deserted  him  ;  the 
one  friend  who  had  given  his  life  to  serve  him. 

The  castle  lay  shrouded  in  darkness  and  silence.  Twice 
a  sentry  challenged  the  King  as  he  strode  up. 

"  Halt,  or  I  fire ! "  the  man-at-arms  shouted  as  Fried- 
rich  gave  no  answer. 

"  Fool !  I  am  the  Palsgrave  ! "  Friedrich  cried  angrily. 
The  man  fell  back.  "  Open  !  Open  !  God's  life !  am  I 
to  be  shut  out  of  mine  own  castle  ? "  the  King  cried,  and 
beat  against  the  door  furiously.  From  the  river  a  white 
mist  had  risen,  and  wrapped  the  world  in  a  chill  em- 
brace. The  King  listened.  There  was  silence  over  city 
and  castle. 

"  Is  it  so  late  ?  "  he  called  to  the  sentry. 

"Nigh  upon  midnight,  your  Highness,"  the  man 
answered.  Ah,  yes !  he  had  travelled  slowly  since  night- 
fall— the  horse,  poor  brute,  had  been  so  slow — so  slow. 
Poor  Hurry — what  a  hideous  dream  it  was 


172  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Open !  open  !  It  is  I,  the  Palsgrave  ! "  he  called  again, 
and  smote  the  panels  with  his  clenched  fists.  Somewhere 
in  the  castle  a  door  banged,  and  a  footfall  echoed  through 
the  quiet  house.  At  last  the  heavy  door  was  opened 
narrowly,  and  a  serving-man's  face  peered  through  the 
crack. 

"  Open !  It  is  I,  the  Palsgrave  !  "  Friedrich  cried  again. 
The  flickering  light  from  a  lantern  fell  on  the  King's  face, 
then  an  exclamation  of  surprise  came  from  the  serving- 
man,  and  the  door  was  flung  wide. 

"  Your  Highness !  Where  is  your  Highness's  horse  ? 
Shall  I  lead  him  to  the  stable  ? "  the  astonished  man 
stammered. 

"  On  the  bridge — dead  !  Oh  God  ! "  the  King  answered, 
and  a  sob  burst  from  his  lips. 

"  Friedrich  !  what  has  happened  ?  "  Elizabeth  Stuart 
stood  on  the  stairs.  She  stood  there  in  her  trailing  bed- 
gown, her  luxuriant,  brown  hair  spread  like  a  cloak  over 
her  shoulders.  Her  eyes  were  brilliant  with  sleep,  and  a 
rosy  flush  was  on  her  cheek,  like  the  glow  on  the  face  of 
an  awakened  child. 

"  Friedrich,  my  Lord  !  what  have  they  done  to  thee  ? " 
she  said  wonderingly.  He  pushed  past  her  almost  roughly. 

"  Come !  not  here  !  I  cannot  tell  you  here  !  All  the 
world  listens,  all  the  world  mocks  me ! "  he  half  sobbed. 
She  followed  him  into  her  sleeping-room.  Here  a  single 
taper  burned,  and  through  the  uncurtained  casement  the 
murky  night  seemed  like  a  sombre,  inexorable  eye  gazing 
into  the  room.  Elizabeth  had  thrown  back  the  curtain 
when,  startled  from  sleep,  she  had  endeavoured  to  see 
what  brought  that  clamour  beneath  her  windows. 

Friedrich  fell  on  his  knees  beside  her  chair,  and  hoarse 
sobs  shook  him  as  an  ague  fit. 

"  Who  has  dared  to  do  this  to  thee  ? "  she  cried.  "  Fried- 
rich,  my  poor,  tired  love  !  I  will  fetch  wine  ! "  She  passed 
into  the  supper-parlour.  In  a  small  wall-press  she  found  a 
flask  of  sack.  With  trembling  hands  she  poured  a  deep 
draught  into  a  silver  goblet,  and  brought  it  to  the  King. 
Very  tenderly  she  lifted  his  head,  and  soothingly,  as  we 


KING  FRIEDRICH'S  RIDE  173 

speak  to  a  tired  child,  she  bade  him  drink  and  rest.  At 
first  he  could  not  swallow  the  wine,  for  his  sobs  rent  him, 
and  his  throat  seemed  closed  by  some  cruel,  strangling 
hand.  She  held  the  goblet  to  his  lips. 

"  Drink,  my  dear  one ;  you  see  you  are  safe  with  me. 
Friedrich,  my  love  !  Poor  wounded  heart  of  mine  !  "  she 
said  again  and  again.  At  length  he  grew  calmer,  and 
slowly,  like  a  sick  man,  he  drank.  Then  she  sat  down 
and  drew  him  to  her.  For  a  while  he  lay  there  as  one 
stunned ;  and  then,  in  halting  broken  words,  he  told  her 
the  piteous  story  of  his  humiliation,  of  his  defeat,  of  his 
furious  ride,  and  of  how  poor  Hurry  had  fallen  dead  on 
the  castle  bridge. 

She  held  him  quietly  in  her  strong  arms,  and  gradu- 
ally, like  the  calming  of  a  tempestuous  sea,  the  waves 
of  madness  and  despair  in  his  soul  sank  to  stillness.  The 
hammering  questions  in  his  brain  ceased,  and  he  rested 
— almost  slept.  But  Elizabeth,  wide-eyed  and  tortured, 
gazed  out  into  the  darkness  through  the  uncurtained 
casement.  She  marvelled  dumbly  that  such  weakness 
could  be,  and  yet  she  was  too  strong,  too  unself-conscious, 
to  despise  Friedrich.  She  only  yearned  to  help  and  com- 
fort him,  to  hide  his  weakness  in  her  strength.  Courage  ! 
courage  !  what  was  the  use  of  despair  ?  she  asked  herself 
silently. 

Yet  she  could  not  forgive  him  for  having  ridden  his 
horse  to  death.  Through  her  pity  for  Friedrich  there 
pulsed  now  a  little  throb  of  scorn  which  his  weakness 
had  not  called  forth ;  but  this  was  a  meanness,  a  crime 
against  a  faithful,  willing  friend.  She  pictured  poor 
Hurry  striving  to  content  his  rider,  on — on,  over  those 
long,  weary  miles ;  she  saw  the  poor  beast's  patient, 
straining  eyes,  clouded  with  death  now :  death  in  the 
service  of  a  careless,  thoughtless  rider !  A  hot  flush  of 
anger  rose  to  her  cheek;  her  brother  could  not,  no 
Englishman  could,  have  done  such  a  thing,  she  thought. 
She  realised  the  eternal  barrier  of  nationality  between  her 
and  Friedrich.  Resolutely  she  turned  her  thoughts  away — 
that  was  a  subject  it  was  disloyal  to  consider ;  this  man  was 


174  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

her  man — weak  perchance,  faulty — but  her  man  for  all 
that.  Over  the  bowed  brown  head  which  leaned  on  her 
breast  she  smiled,  ruefully  a  trifle,  but  bravely,  humorously 
remembering  her  brother's  saying  of  her  that :  "  The  mare 
was  the  better  horse  of  the  Palatine  pair." 

Complete  stillness  reigned  in  the  castle  of  Ainberg. 
Elizabeth  moved  her  arm  from  beneath  Friedrich's 
shoulder. 

"Oh!  ma  mie,let  me  rest  another  moment," he  murmured 
plaintively,  and  then  once  more  he  recounted  of  his  failure, 
of  the  cruel  insult  he  had  suffered  ;  called  himself  a  fool, 
bitterly  reproached  himself.  And  Elizabeth,  with  all  the 
generous  inconsistency  of  a  loyal  woman,  spoke  to  him  of 
how  brave  he  was.  She  praised  him,  laughed  gently  at 
his  doubts  and  fears,  assured  him  of  her  trust  hi  him  and 
of  her  belief  in  his  future,  because  she  felt  that  in  her 
confidence  in  him  lay  his  only  chance  of  courage ;  because, 
too,  confidence  was  the  expression  of  her  loyalty. 

The  grey  dawn  saw  Friedrich  sleeping  peacefully,  saw 
too,  how  Elizabeth  Stuart's  eyes  were  wide  with  sleepless 
sadness,  for  this  was  the  first  time  she  had  realised  to  the 
full  how  weak  a  thing  was  Friedrich,  King  of  Bohemia. 


CHAPTER  XI 

PRAGUE 
"  Quern  Deus  perdere  vult  dementat  prius." 

AN  autumn  haze  lay  over  the  White  Mountain,  and  a 
/\  heavy  dew  sparkled  on  the  scant  grass  which 
•4-  -^  clothed  the  long,  bare  slope.  A  train  of  splendid 
travellers  wound  its  slow  way  along  the  road  which  leads 
out  of  far-off  Germany  to  Prague.  First  clattered  a  regi- 
ment of  mounted  arquebusiers,  whose  accoutrements 
glittered  bravely  in  the  morning  sun.  Behind  them  came 
a  gallant  cortege  of  nobles,  and  following  these  were  five 
gilded  coaches.  Then  came  a  detachment  of  men-at-arms 
and  a  long  file  of  baggage  waggons  and  sumptermen  with 
laden  horses.  This  day  Friedrich,  King  of  Bohemia,  and 
Her  Majesty  Queen  Elizabeth,  with  their  suite,  journeyed 
from  the  Castle  of  Bustehrad,  where  they  had  spent  the 
preceding  night,  to  their  town  of  Prague. 

Autumn  had  decked  Bohemia  to  greet  her  new 
sovereign :  the  bare  hills,  so  unutterably  dreary  under  a 
leaden  sky,  smiled  to-day  beneath  the  haze — smiled  and 
glistened  in  the  morning  dew. 

Beside  her  Majesty's  coach  rode  my  young  Lord  Bernard 
of  Thurn,  son  of  the  statesman.  The  elder  Thurn  was  a 
polished  courtier,  a  man  who  knew  both  Court  and  camp ; 
but,  though  he  played  the  patriot,  he  was,  in  truth,  more 
Austrian  than  Bohemian ;  whereas  his  son,  brought  up  at 
Prague,  was  a  true  Czech,  with  all  the  Czech's  fiery  love 
of  his  country. 

Bernard  Thurn  rode  beside  Elizabeth  Stuart's  carosse 
and  told  her,  hi  glowing  words,  a  dozen  histories  of  old 
Bohemian  days. 

"  See,  madame  ! "  he  cried,  "  by  this  road,  here  to  the 
right,  we  should  reach  Karlstein.  Ah !  how  noble  a 


175 


176  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

fortress !  Never  in  all  history  has  an  enemy  captured 
this  stronghold.  I  would  I  could  hide  you  there,  madame, 
if  ever  the  enemy  threatened.  For  a  year  and  a  day  I 
would  hold  it  for  you  !  For  a  year  ?  Nay ! — for  ever,  if 
need  be  ! "  The  Queen  laughed. 

"  For  a  year  and  a  day,  as  in  some  fairy  story,"  she 
said. 

"Madame,  Karlstein  is  like  some  fabled  castle  of 
old ! "  he  cried  enthusiastically.  He  told  her  how  the 
Emperor  Charles  IV.  had  built  it  deep  in  the  hill-land, 
so  hidden  away  that  no  invading  army  could  ever  find  it ; 
how  the  magnificent  stronghold  was  guarded  by  difficult 
passes ;  how  it  stood  high  on  a  crag  and  was  built  up 
around  the  soaring  rock  peak,  which  was  thrust  forth  grimly 
in  the  masonry  even  at  the  level  of  the  highest  windows ; 
and  that, above  all, over  the  gigantic  rock, high  in  the  clouds, 
secluded  even  above  the  abode  of  kings,  grandly  isolated 
from  all,  was  the  sacred  chapel  where  the  Bohemian  crown 
was  kept.  He  told  her  how  the  Emperor  Sigismund,  the 
accursed  one,  who  had  doomed  Master  John  Hus  to  a  fiery 
death,  had  stolen  many  of  the  precious  stones,  had  torn 
away  whole  sheets  of  silver  and  gold,  and  caused  them  to 
be  melted  down  to  make  coin  to  pay  for  his  shameful 
splendour.  Bernard  Thurn  spoke  with  poetic  fervour,  and 
Elizabeth  Stuart  sat  in  her  gilded  carosse  and  listened  with 
shining  eyes  and  parted  lips,  as  a  child  listens  to  a  fairy 
tale.  He  told  her  how  no  man  might  enter  the  sanctuary 
of  the  Kreuz  Kapelle,  no  man  save  God's  high  priests 
and  the  Bohemian  King;  but  yet  how  sometimes  his 
father,  Burggrave  of  Karlstein,  had  let  him  peep  into  the 
outer  chapel,  a  wondrous  place,  like  unto  a  chapter  of 
the  Revelation  of  St.  John.  For  the  walls  were  encrusted 
with  precious  stones,  the  roof  was  wrought  in  pure  gold, 
and  the  windows  were  made  of  strange  glittering  crystals, 
through  which  the  dim  light  fell  in  a  thousand  prismatic 
hues  athwart  the  floor  of  jasper,  jade,  and  porphyry.  On 
the  walls  between  the  flashing  setting  of  topaz,  of  amethyst, 
and  of  pale  iridescent  opals,  chrysolites,  and  blood-red  gar- 
nets, there  were  set  mosaics  representing  Bohemia's  saints, 


PRAGUE  177 

whose  halos,  and  the  jewels  of  whose  vestments,  were  of 
gold  and  priceless  gems. 

"  Does  all  this  marvel  still  remain  ? "  Elizabeth  asked 
wonderingly. 

"  Aye,  sweet  madame,  and,  as  long  as  Karlstein  stands, 
the  Bohemian  race  will  not  forget  their  ancient  glory  and 
their  bitter  wrongs,"  said  young  Thurn. 

The  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens  when  the  King's 
cortege  drew  near  to  the  Star  Palace  on  the  White 
Mountain,  that  quaint  Renaissance  pavilion  which  the 
Archduke  Ferdinand  of  Austria  had  caused  to  be  built 
for  the  Lady  Philippine  Welser,  the  patrician  maiden  of 
Augsburg,  whom  he  had  raised  to  royal  rank  by  wedding 
her  in  the  face  of  the  Emperor's  bitter  hostility.  A  strange 
pavilion,  this  Star  Palace,  for  even  a  hunting-lodge  in  those 
days  was  perforce  fortified,  and  the  Palace,  built  in  six 
massive-pointed  sections  to  portray  a  star  in  stone,  was 
surrounded  by  a  ponderous  loopholed  Avail ;  and  it  was 
believed  that  the  Star  Palace  was  an  impregnable,  if 
miniature,  fortress. 

That  day  the  heavy  gates  stood  wide  open ;  Bohemia's 
flag  flew  bravely  above  the  Palace ;  rich  tapestries  were 
hung  from  out  the  windows,  and  a  crowd  of  gorgeously 
clad  nobles  stood  before  the  door  eager  to  greet  their 
Sovereign  Lord  and  his  gracious  Lady. 

All  the  actors  in  the  Bohemian  drama  were  there :  my 
Lords  of  Thurn,  of  Hohenlohe,  of  Michaelowitz,  Count 
Ernest  Mansfeld,  Duke  Christian  of  Anhalt  and  his  son 
Prince  Christel,  Duke  Magnus  of  Wirtemberg,  Duke 
William  of  Weimar ;  the  Bohemian  Lords  William  of 
Lobkowitz,  Ruppa,  Czernin,  Kinsky ;  the  aged  Schlick, 
and  many  other  Czechish  gentlemen.  Right  glad  was  this 
meeting  between  Friedrich  of  the  Palatinate  and  the  men 
who  had  made  him  King.  The  autumn  sun  shone  on  a 
gay  scene  enough,  and  surely  it  was  of  happy  augury  that 
the  new  King  and  Queen  should  make  their  entry  into 
Prague  on  this  smiling  autumn  day  ? 

In  the  Star  Palace  a  banquet  had  been  spread,  and  soon 
the  pavilion  rang  with  laughter  and  young  voices. 

M 


178  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

After  the  banquet  the  English  ladies  wandered  with  the 
Bohemian  gallants  through  the  quaint  chambers  formed 
by  the  six  points  of  the  star.  Tapestries  were  hung  on 
the  walls  beneath  those  delicate  Renaissance  mouldings  of 
the  frieze,  which  have  made  the  Star  Palace  famous  as  a 
very  treasury  of  perfect  design.  In  each  room  logs  flamed 
in  the  wide,  open  fireplaces ;  and  the  ladies  vowed  that 
Bohemia  was  a  friendly  land. 

"  We  have  only  seen  sunshine  and  kindly  looks  since 
we  came  to  your  country,  my  lords,"  said  Elizabeth 
Stuart  to  the  nobles  who  stood  around  her.  "  And  this 
is  the  goodliest  hunting-lodge  I  have  ever  seen !  I  shall 
often  journey  hither,  and  I  pray  you  all  to  grace  my  first 
feast  in  the  Star  ! " 

"  A  Star  Palace  is  a  fitting  resting-place  for  the  fairest 
star  of  womanhood ! "  murmured  young  Bernard  Thurn  ; 
and  Ritter  Christel  cast  him  a  half-melancholy,  half- 
humorous  look,  for  he  saw  that  the  youth  had  already 
learned  to  worship  at  that  shrine  where  so  many  wor- 
shipped, and  were  rewarded — by  a  smile. 

The  Bohemians  were  hugely  diverted  by  her  Majesty's 
monkey,  and  when  she  told  them,  in  her  light  way,  that 
he  was  her  eldest  son,  they  laughed  long.  Little  Prince 
Hal,  leaning  against  his  mother's  knee,  cried  out  that  he 
was  her  eldest  son. 

"  Mother,  I  am  Prince  of  Bohemia ! "  he  whimpered 
angrily. 

"Nay,  sweeting,  Jacky  is  my  heir!"  returned  Eliza- 
beth, laughing.  A  chill  fell  on  the  laughing  group.  The 
Bohemians  found  this  a  sorry  jest.  Did  their  new  Queen 
mock  them  ?  Did  she  mean  that  a  monkey  was  good 
enough  to  be  Bohemia's  King  ?  The  unfortunate  are  easily 
wounded  by  a  light  word,  and  the  Bohemians,  ever  an  un- 
lucky race,  are  morbidly  sensitive  and  quickly  suspicious. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  saw  the  changed  look  on  the  courtiers' 
faces.  With  a  sudden  sense  of  helplessness  she  realised 
that  a  foreign  language  is  a  dangerous  vehicle  for  jest. 
She  had  spoken  in  French,  and  the  Bohemians  for  the 
most  part  knew  the  language  but  indifferently.  She 


PRAGUE  179 

glanced  at  the  King.  He  was  standing  in  the  embra- 
sure of  one  of  the  windows  with  Hohenlohe,  old  Thurn, 
and  Master  Scultetus.  Affairs  of  State  at  the  wrong 
moment,  of  course,  she  thought  impatiently  !  She  rose. 

"  We  must  hurry  onwards  now,"  she  cried.  "  I  would 
fain  tarry  at  this  happy  place,  but  I  am  all  impatient  to 
behold  my  new  abode  in  Prague." 

The  bevy  of  English  damsels  gathered  round  her,  the 
coaches  were  summoned,  and  amid  laughter  and  gaiety  the 
cortege  resumed  its  way  over  the  White  Mountain. 

When  the  travellers  came  to  the  brow  of  the  hill,  Prague 
lay  like  a  dream-city  in  the  haze  of  the  autumn  midday. 
The  sun  touched  to  splendour  the  myriad  turrets,  towers, 
cupolas,  and  spires  of  the  Hradcany  Palace,  and  the  broad 
majestic  Moldau,  sweeping  grandly  onwards  between  the 
"  Old  City  "  and  the  "  Small  Town,"  seemed  to  be  an  inlet 
from  the  blue  sky.  Along  the  road  beyond  the  city  walls 
a  dense  crowd  of  peasants  stood  and  welcomed  the  splendid 
cavalcade  with  outbursts  of  passionate  joy.  King  Fried- 
rich  on  a  sorel  charger  rode  alone,  isolated  from  the 
other  riders  so  that  all  should  see  him.  He  wore  a 
sumptuous  tunic  of  "viol-brown"  velvet  embroidered 
with  silver,  his  slashed  hose  were  of  brown,  his  hat  and 
feather  were  brown,  his  ruff  was  of  fair  white  linen,  and 
on  his  breast  there  flashed  the  jewelled  collar  of  St.  George 
of  England ;  a  right  kingly  figure,  this  debonnair  prince, 
this  brave  young  champion  of  an  oppressed  people  ;  and 
the  dark-browed  Czechs,  with  the  short  dog-like  faces  and 
pathetic  dog-like  yearning  eyes,  gave  him  rapturous  greet- 
ing as  he  rode  to  their  well-beloved  Prague. 

With  a  clang,  as  though  the  whole  world  had  been  set 
ringing,  the  bells  of  the  city  chimed  out  from  every 
church  and  chapel.  At  the  Strahow  Gate  the  royal 
cortege  halted,  King  Friedrich  dismounted,  and  her 
Majesty,  too,  descended  from  her  coach.  The  whole 
Court  formed  a  circle  behind  the  King  and  Queen,  while 
the  burgomaster  and  the  chief  city  authorities  did  homage 
to  their  new  ruler. 

Now  through  the  gates  there  appeared  a  curious  com- 


180  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

pany  of  riders :  men  in  ancient  breastpieces  and  battered 
helmets,  with  targets,  scythes  and  sickles,  hayforks  and 
ploughshares,  and  rude  two-handed  swords,notched,broken, 
and  rusty  with  age.  These  grotesque  riders  halted  before 
the  King  and  struck  their  weapons  against  their  targets. 
For  a  moment  Elizabeth  Stuart  remained  grave  and  digni- 
fied, then  her  lips  trembled  and  she  turned  her  head  away  to 
hide  her  amusement  at  these  uncouth  welcomers.  Unfor- 
tunately her  eyes  met  the  laughing  gaze  of  Duke  Magnus. 

At  this  moment  the  riders  burst  forth  in  a  hoarse  cry: 
"  Vivat  Rex  Ferdinandus ! " 

Friedrich's  face  grew  dark.  What  meant  the  loons? 
Was  it  in  mockery  that  they  greeted  him  by  the  name  of 
his  enemy  ?  Schlick  spoke  to  Thurn,  who  in  a  hurried 
whisper,  explained  that  this  was  a  mistake,  and  that  in 
their  excitement  the  peasant  band  had  shouted  the  wrong 
name.  A  Bohemian  gentleman  went  forward  and  spoke 
with  the  leader  of  the  troop,  and  now  they  thundered : 
"  Yivat !  Vivat  Fredericus  Rex ! " 

But  this  had  been  too  much  for  the  Queen's  com- 
posure, and  she  and  her  whole  Court  laughed  in  a  tempest 
of  hilarity.  Even  Friedrich  was  infected  by  the  merri- 
ment, and,  though  he  strove  to  hide  his  amusement,  after  an 
instant  he  too  gave  in  and  joined  in  the  untimely  mirth. 

For  a  space  the  peasant  warriors  waited.  They  were 
the  descendants  of  those  who  had  fought  under  Ziska  in 
the  Hussite  wars,  and  their  curious  accoutrements  were 
the  weapons  which  their  forbears  had  wielded  to  revenge 
Bohemia's  patriot,  Master  John  Hus.  These  strange,  bat- 
tered weapons  were  their  most  cherished  possessions,  sacred 
emblems  to  them  of  Bohemia's  freedom,  beautiful  in  their 
eyes  because  they  had  been  beautiful  to  the  reverent  gaze 
of  many  generations.  And  on  this  day  they  had  come 
forth  bearing  these  sacred  relics  of  their  country's  history 
as  symbols  of  their  ardour  in  their  new  King's  service. 
They  did  not  know  that  they  appeared  queer  and  ridicu- 
lous,— alas !  when  do  we  ever  know  how  absurd  the  ex- 
pression of  our  feelings  seems  to  the  cold  scrutiny  of  the 
world  ? 


PRAGUE  181 

They  stood  dumbfounded  before  the  laughing  Court, 
these  Czech  peasants  in  their  ludicrous  armour.  Not 
they  alone  were  wounded  by  the  thoughtless  mirth,  the 
Bohemian  nobles  also  were  aghast  at  such  ill-mannered 
levity.  Young  Thurn  came  to  the  King. 

"  Sire,"  he  said  bitterly,  "  perchance  you  do  not  know 
the  meaning  of  those  weapons,  broken  in  Bohemia's  ser- 
vice, but  I  pray  you  speak  with  these  men.  They  wish 
you  well,  and  would  die  for  you."  The  King  measured 
him  with  a  haughty  look.  Like  most  Germans,  Friedrich 
was  very  jealous  of  his  dignity. 

"  I  am  not  accustomed  to  receive  commands,  sir,"  he 
said  stiffly ;  yet  he  stepped  forward  and  would  have  given 
greeting  to  the  peasant  troop,  but  with  dark  looks  the 
men  turned  away,  and  with  a  jangle  of  steel  and  iron 
they  galloped  through  the  Strahow  gate. 

"  Unmannerly  clowns  !  "  cried  the  King  angrily.  "  I 
have  to  thank  you,  my  young  Count  Thurn,  for  this 
affront,"  he  added. 

Once  more  the  cortege  moved  on.  In  the  broad  street 
which  led  from  the  Strahow  gate  to  the  palace,  the 
populace  stood  so  densely  packed  that  the  King's  pro- 
gress was  of  necessity  slow ;  but  his  Majesty  appeared  to 
have  forgotten  his  displeasure,  and  it  was  a  very  smiling, 
gracious  youth  whom  the  people  of  Prague  greeted  as 
their  King  on  that  bright  autumn  morning  of  1619. 

A  courtly  company  wandered  through  the  suite  of 
rooms  which  the  Emperor  Rudolf  had  built  above  the 
state  chambers  of  the  Hradcdny,  to  store  his  collection 
of  pictures,  statues,  and  carven  ivories.  Her  new  Majesty 
of  Bohemia,  with  a  true  Stuart's  love  of  art,  rejoiced 
in  finding  such  masterpieces  in  her  new  abode,  and 
she  vowed  they  consoled  her  for  a  multitude  of  small 
discomforts. 

"  Ah  ! "  she  cried,  "  see  this  carven  ivory,  and  this  fair 
woman's  face  of  far-off  times  !  A  Greek  idolatrous  image 
you  say,  Master  Scultetus  ?  Alack  !  but  beauty  may  be 
an  earthly  and  vain  thing  and  a  snare  for  the  soul,  as 


182  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

you  tell  me,  Hochwiirden,  but  I  am  consoled  thereby  for 
the  ugliness  of  the  brown  Moldau  water  wherein  I  laved 
my  hands  this  day  ! "  She  laughed  and  passed  on  with 
her  ladies.  Scultetus  shook  his  head ;  her  Majesty  was 
too  full  of  laughter,  too  light  of  word.  The  worthy 
preacher  gave  the  Queen  no  credit  for  her  undaunted 
cheerfulness  through  many  a  weary  day.  He  loved  the 
sour  faces  and  the  whining  tones  of  narrow  piety. 

Merrily  Elizabeth  Stuart  and  her  Court  paced  through 
the  rooms.  It  was  the  day  after  their  Majesties'  entrance 
into  Prague,  and  the  Queen  was  like  some  happy  child 
exploring  the  rambling  precincts  of  the  Hradcdny  Palace  ; 
yet  she  shuddered  when  she  was  shown  the  council 
chamber  window  wherefrom  the  Imperial  Councillors  had 
been  flung. 

In  the  midst  of  her  wanderings,  a  lackey  came  and 
announced  that  a  deputation  of  burghers'  ladies  craved 
audience,  and  her  Majesty  immediately  hurried  to  re- 
ceive them.  Count  Schomberg,  following  in  the  Queen's 
wake,  sighed  at  the  lack  of  etiquette  in  Bohemia.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  thought  of  careful,  programmatic  arrange- 
ment; and  he  sighed  again  when  he  remembered  the 
absurd  occurrences  of  the  preceding  day.  A  Court  un- 
controlled by  a  definite  programme  is  like  a  troop  ot 
comedians  without  a  scene- master ;  the  clown  and  the 
harlequin  play  the  first  r61es,  and  no  one  knows  if  the 
stage  king  may  not  suddenly  don  the  clown's  cap,  he 
thought  angrily. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  stood  waiting  to  receive  the  Bohemian 
matrons.  Amalia  Solms  and  the  English  ladies-in-waiting 
were  grouped  behind  her.  Master  Scultetus  and  Schom- 
berg stood  together,  nervously  awaiting  the  appearance 
of  the  deputation,  and  Schomberg  cursed  the  lack  of 
foresight  which  had  caused  the  Queen  of  a  foreign- 
speaking  race  to  be  thus  unprepared  for  the  reception  of 
her  new  subjects.  He  prayed  that  some  of  the  Bohemian 
matrons  would  know  a  few  words  of  French  or  German. 
Ah  !  why  had  he  not  insisted  on  some  one  who  was 
master  or  mistress  of  the  Czech  tongue  being  in  per- 


PRAGUE  183 

manent  attendance  on  the  Queen  ?  It  was  a  ridiculous 
and  awkward  predicament — a  fit  subject  for  a  comedy ; 
ruefully  he  considered  that  comedies  may  be  diverting 
to  the  audience,  but  that  to  the  players  themselves  they 
are  often  unpleasant. 

The  doors  of  the  Queen's  audience  chamber  were 
thrown  open,  and  there  entered  some  dozen  portly 
matrons,  dark-browed  and  sallow,  with  short,  broad  faces 
and  melancholy  eyes.  They  were  clad  hi  very  full  cloth 
skirts  and  stiff,  pointed  bodices  adorned  with  numerous 
gold  and  silver  chains ;  their  head-dresses  were  towering 
edifices  of  plaited  ribbon  held  down  to  the  oiled,  dark 
hair  by  heavy  round  metal  ornaments  of  barbaric  design. 
These  matrons,  looking  portentously  solemn,  each  bore  a 
loaf  of  bread  so  vast  that  they  were  forced  to  encircle  it 
with  both  arms;  at  their  girdles  were  hung  large  salt- 
bags.  They  stood  in  silence  before  the  Queen.  Elizabeth 
stepped  forward. 

"  I  give  you  good  greeting,  mesdames,"  she  said ;  "  if 
it  is  your  kind  wish  to  bring  me  the  delicious  bakery  of 
your  ovens,  I  thank  you."  She  looked  round  helplessly. 
Schomberg's  face  was  blank  with  astonishment,  and  even 
Master  Scultetus's  gaunt  cheeks  were  brick  coloured,  and 
his  lips  twitched  with  laughter.  Her  Majesty's  eyes  met 
the  derisive  glance  of  my  Lady  Phyllis  Devereux. 

"  For  the  dear  Lord's  sake,  sweet  friend,  do  not  laugh," 
whispered  her  Majesty.  "  Schomberg,  what  am  I  to  say 
to  these  strange  visitors  ?  "  A  ripple  of  merriment  broke 
the  silence. 

"  Mesdames,  I  thank  you,"  began  Elizabeth  once 
more ;  and  then,  alas !  her  gravity  departed,  and  she 
laughed  aloud. 

One  of  the  Bohemian  matrons  came  forward  and 
spoke  some  swift,  indistinct  Czechish  words ;  but  laughter 
had  usurped  the  place  of  prudence,  of  dignity,  and  of 
kindliness,  and  would  not  be  stilled. 

The  ladies  of  Prague  turned  away,  and,  with  bowed 
heads,  filed  out  of  the  audience  chamber.  The  offering 
of  loaves  and  salt  was  an  ancient  Bohemian  custom.  It 


184  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

was  symbolic  not  only  of  their  homage,  but  of  their 
goodwill,  of  their  ardour  to  serve  and  to  give  of  their 
wealth  to  their  liege  lords.  This  usage  was  so  universal 
among  Slav  races  that  the  Prague  matrons  could  not 
believe  that  any  one  could  misunderstand  the  significance 
of  the  homely  ceremony. 

The  four  days  between  King  Friedrich's  arrival  in 
Prague  and  his  coronation  were  taken  up  by  long 
and  anxious  consultations  between  the  King,  Scultetus, 
Camerarius,  the  chief  Bohemian  nobles,  and  the  Adminis- 
trator or  Lutheran  Archbishop,  as  to  the  rites  to  be 
used  for  crowning  this  Calvinistic  King.  It  was  unani- 
mously agreed  that  no  ritual  of  the  Roman  Church  could 
find  a  place  in  this  ceremony;  but  it  was  distinctly 
difficult  to  anoint  a  king,  to  present  him  with  the  sacred 
symbols  of  his  office,  to  go  through  a  grand  religious 
ceremonial,  if  all  the  ancient  customs  were  to  be  con- 
demned as  idolatrous.  Like  so  much  in  the  history  of 
King  Friedrich,  it  was  not  only  an  awkward  dilemma, 
but  there  was  a  ridiculous  vein,  an  inconsistency  in  the 
whole  matter.  He  must  be  crowned  for  reasons  of  State 
and  public  sentiment ;  his  coronation  must  be  a  grand 
and  impressive  rite,  symbolic  of  the  majesty,  of  the  power, 
and  of  the  holy  office  of  kings — and  his  Calvinistic  creed 
forbade  ritual  and  condemned  symbols  !  If  nothing  was 
to  be  taken  from  the  ordained  Romish  coronation  form, 
what  could  they  devise  to  fill  the  place  thus  vacant  ? 

Then  Scultetus  and  the  Lutheran  Administrator  em- 
barked on  a  flood  of  polemic,  and  disagreeing,  of  course, 
they  returned  from  their  theological  voyage,  bringing 
personal  animosity  to  add  to  the  tangle.  It  was  most 
unpleasant,  a  little  absurd,  and  time  pressed,  for  the 
coronation  was  fixed  for  November  4th,  and  take  place  it 
must,  in  one  form  or  another.  They  asked  anxiously  what 
form  had  been  used  in  the  crowning  of  other  Protestant 
kings  ?  Queen  Elizabeth  of  England  had  been  crowned 
and  anointed  according  to  the  ancient  ritual,  though  she 
had  caused  gospel  and  epistle  to  be  read  in  English. 


PRAGUE  185 

James  I.  and  Queen  Anne  had  been  crowned  together, 
but  there  was  no  time  for  the  Bohemian  Council  to  ascer- 
tain the  exact  form  used.  Also  Scultetus  claimed  that 
the  tenets  of  the  English  Church  were  a  mixture  of 
Lutheran  and  Popish  doctrine ;  King  Friedrich  was  Cal- 
vinistic  and  should  be  crowned  according  to  his  cult.  At 
length  the  disputants  were  silenced  by  Time,  who  pressed, 
and  by  the  decision  of  the  Bohemian  nobles,  who  averred 
that  as  the  coronation  was  that  of  a  Bohemian  king,  it 
should  be  done  according  to  the  will  of  the  Bohemian 
Lutheran  Administrator. 

So  on  the  4th  day  of  November  1619,  in  the  ancient 
Church  of  St.  Vitus,  Friedrich,  Prince  Palatine,  was 
anointed  and  crowned  King,  with  a  Lutheran  ritual. 
The  Czechish  language  was  used  instead  of  Latin ;  the 
monarch  himself  understanding  no  word  thereof,  re- 
cited the  responses  in  the  national  tongue,  having  learned 
to  gabble  them  by  heart.  Scultetus,  allowed  no  part  in 
the  proceedings,  stood  dark-browed  and  sombre,  watch- 
ing his  pupil  receive  crown,  orb  and  sceptre,  ring  and 
sword.  And  Scultetus  vowed  in  his  heart  that  the  pure 
Faith  of  Calvin  should  be  avenged  for  this  outrage. 

It  was  a  time  of  banqueting  and  much  splendour  in 
Prague.  The  cannon  thundered  royal  salutes ;  gold  and 
silver  were  scattered,  by  the  King's  command,  among  the 
populace;  the  fountains  ran  with  good  red  wine;  the 
citizens  feasted  and  rejoiced ;  the  councillors  voted  large 
sums  for  the  royal  maintenance ;  and  medals  were  struck 
to  commemorate  the  coronation. 

Meanwhile,  on  the  southern  Bohemian  frontier,  guard- 
ing the  passes  from  Lower  Austria,  there  was  encamped 
a  horde  of  starving,  unpaid  men,  who  often  stole  away 
to  the  villages  to  sell  their  weapons,  generally  for  mean 
prices,  yet  sufficient  to  buy  a  little  food.  This  was  the 
army  of  Friedrich,  King  of  Bohemia,  just  now  so  grandly 
crowned;  of  Friedrich,  who  scattered  gold  and  silver 
among  the  populace  of  Prague  ! 

Her  Majesty  Elizabeth,  too,  a  few  days  later,  was 
crowned  with  much  pomp,  and  again  there  was  universal 


186  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

rejoicing1,  more  banqueting,  more  feasting  for  the  citizens, 
more  wine  flowing  from  the  fountains,  and  enormous 
quantities  of  bread  and  meat  distributed  among  the 
poor. 

There  came  no  thought  of  disaster  to  the  new  Court ; 
all  was  splendour  and  rejoicing.  What  mattered  it  that 
King  James  of  England  wrote  angry  censure  of  the 
crown's  acceptance  ?  That  from  Vienna  came  the  menace 
of  the  Empire's  ban  being  laid  upon  Friedrich  ?  That 
Maximilian  of  Bavaria  wrote  solemn  warning  ?  That  the 
Elector  of  Saxony  openly  threw  in  his  lot  with  the 
Imperial  party  ?  Friedrich  was  an  anointed  King  and 
Elizabeth  Stuart  a  crowned  Queen :  the  dream  of  years 
had  become  a  reality.  Friedrich  was  but  three-and- 
twenty,  and  success  is  an  intoxicating  draught  to  the 
young. 

Towards  the  end  of  November  her  Majesty  gave  birth 
to  a  son,  and  again  Prague  rejoiced;  and  the  kindly 
Bohemian  matrons  appeared  once  more,  and  this  time 
they  brought  a  far  different  gift  instead  of  those  mis- 
understood loaves !  They  offered  Elizabeth  Stuart  an 
ebony  cradle  inlaid  with  ivory,  and  a  kist  filled  with  fine 
linen  for  the  baby  prince. 

Prosperity,  peace,  and  content  reigned  over  Bohemia, 
but  there  was  a  sombre  figure  moving  through  the  groups 
of  gay  courtiers  at  the  Hradcany  palace,  a  man  full  of 
hatred,  discontent,  and  anger ;  this  was  Master  Scultetus 
the  Calvinist.  Elizabeth  Stuart  noted  a  cloud  on  the 
King's  brow.  She  questioned  him,  but  he  gave  evasive 
answers,  and,  in  her  happiness,  she  paid  scant  heed  to  his 
troubled  look.  Friedrich  was  a  man  of  moods,  and  she 
was  well  used  to  his  changes  of  mien. 

One  chill  December  morning  Master  Scultetus  and  a 
crowd  of  black-cloaked  men,  followed  by  a  gang  of  work- 
men, entered  the  ancient  Church  of  St.  Vitus,  which 
adjoins  the  Hradcany  Palace.  The  church  lay  in  gloom, 
no  light  glimmered  before  the  high  altar,  no  lamps  shed 
their  radiance  before  the  shrines  of  St.  Vitus  and  of  St. 


PRAGUE  187 

John  Nepoinuk.  For  three  hundred  years  these  lights 
had  burned  before  the  relics  of  those  holy  martyrs ;  for 
three  hundred  years  the  Czechish  people  had  prayed  God 
to  hear  their  petitions  through  the  intercession  of  these 
His  chosen  ones.  Even  when  the  Bohemians  had  broken 
away  from  their  ancient  cult,  in  pious  memory  they  had 
still  venerated  these  shrines,  and  Lutheran  and  Papist 
alike  had  seen  in  the  honouring  of  Bohemia's  great  dead 
a  sacred  national  custom.  A  few  days  before  the  new 
King,  the  hero  who  was  to  deliver  Bohemia,  came  to 
Prague,  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Vitus  had  been  taken  from 
the  priests,  and  since  then  the  church  had  been  deserted ; 
the  flowers  had  withered  upon  the  altars,  and  in  the  un- 
tended  lamps  the  little  flames  had  flickered  and  sunk  to 
death.  There  were  many  among  the  populace  who  had 
bitterly  resented  this  harsh  dealing.  Had  not  Friedrich 
promised  religious  freedom  to  Bohemia  ?  Not  alone  the 
Papists  were  moved  to  anger ;  the  Lutherans,  too,  resented 
this  act  of  Calvinistic  tyranny.  It  was  a  dangerous  thing 
to  affront  the  revered  "  Domherren,"  the  priests  of  the 
Church  of  St.  Vitus ;  and  though  each  priest  was  paid  a 
few  thalers  a  week,  this  scanty  pension  could  not  appease 
their  anger  nor  assuage  their  horror  at  the  injustice  of 
Freedom's  champion  dispossessing  them  of  their  church. 
Quietly  the  well-known  "  Domherren  "  glided  through  the 
streets  of  Prague,  whispering  their  bitterness  into  the  ears 
of  Lutheran  and  Catholic  alike.  These  priests  had  been 
in  the  crowd  which  had  stood  round  the  doors  of  the 
Vitus  Church  during  the  coronation ;  and  though  the 
feasting  populace,  in  the  excitement  of  the  rejoicings,  had 
scarce  noticed  the  whispers,  some  of  the  poison  had 
slipped  into  their  thoughts,  and  afterwards,  when  the 
merrymaking  was  past,  they  had  remembered  the  priests' 
words,  and  a  pulse  of  sullen  resentment,  a  quaver  of 
suspicion,  had  lived  in  the  people's  hearts  against  their 
Calvinistic  ruler. 

Master  Scultetus  and  his  followers  stood  gazing  into 
the  dark  church.  High  over  the  rood-screen  the  stone 
crucifix  seemed  an  appeal  so  potent  that  it  was  almost  a 


188  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

menace,  and  on  the  many  altars  in  the  aisles  the  carven 
figures  of  the  saints  loomed  like  quiet  watchers.  All 
around,  a  majestic  company  of  silent  witnesses  to  their 
country's  vanished  greatness,  lay  Bohemia's  mighty  dead — 
keeping  watch  they,  too,  in  the  desolate  church :  Emperors 
and  Kings  and  Dukes  of  Bohemia,  their  names  recording 
dynasties  long  dead ;  and  beside  them  lay  the  proud 
nobles  of  the  land :  Lobkowitz  and  Duba,  Wlaschin  and 
Rozmital,  Pardubitz  and  Wratislaw  von  Pernstein,  knights 
and  princes  of  the  church.  Verily,  it  was  a  sumptuous 
court  gathered  round  the  King  of  Pain  and  Humility  upon 
the  cross. 

The  deserted  church  was  a  sanctuary  of  stillness  and 
of  memory,  and  even  Scultetus  paused  on  the  threshold. 
Then,  with  a  fierce  gesture,  like  a  cruel  hunter  setting  his 
hounds  at  a  fallen  prey,  he  flung  out  his  arm. 

"  See  !  The  accursed  dolls,  the  hideous  idols  ! "  he 
cried.  "  See  the  graven  images  before  which  the  people 
are  wont  to  offer  sacrilegious  prayer !  Away  with  these 
sham  gods !  We  are  come  to  cleanse  God's  church ! 
Down  with  these  wanton  effigies  ! " 

The  black- cloaked  company  rushed  into  the  church. 
Like  madmen  they  broke  open  the  wrought-iron  railings 
before  the  tombs  of  Bohemia's  nobles,  and  with  fury  they 
attacked  the  altars,  trampling  under  foot  the  silken  hang- 
ings, strewing  the  withered  flowers  upon  the  ground,  and 
hurling  down  the  golden  altar  vases.  Half  a  hundred 
German  masons  and  artisans,  and  a  band  of  mercenary 
soldiers  whom  Scultetus  had  summoned  to  perform  this 
foul  task,  set  to  work  upon  the  stone  figures  of  the  saints, 
dealing  blow  after  blow  with  their  hammers  upon  the 
serene  faces  of  the  sacred  statues.  A  flood  of  ribaldry 
broke  loose  as  the  madness  of  destruction  rose  in  the 
hearts  of  these  rough  men,  half-drunken  already  from 
the  raw  spirits  which  the  Calvinist  had  caused  to  be 
served  to  them  ere  they  followed  him  to  the  church. 

"  Ha !  you  meek-faced  wench,  you'd  have  made  a 
pretty  bedfellow  had  you  tried  that  game  instead  of 
piping  prayers ! "  yelled  one  man  as  he  shattered  the 


PRAGUE  189 

mild  brow  of  St.  Agnes.  A  roar  of  coarse  laughter 
greeted  this. 

"  Come,  here's  Peter  with  his  keybunch  J  I  would  it 
could  open  the  priests'  cellar,"  shouted  another,  while 
he  hacked  with  his  heavy  axe  into  the  gilded  statue  of 
St.  Peter. 

"  See,  comrades !  I've  found  a  blessed  saint's  pate," 
roared  a  drunken  Saxon  lurching  from  a  side-chapel. 
"  Here  !  catch  it  then  !  I'll  warrant  'twill  make  a  good 
ball !  "  He  flung  the  skull  into  a  group  of  workers  who 
toiled  to  shatter  the  delicate  stone  tracery  of  the  chancel 
gate. 

The  ravagers  warmed  to  their  work.  Scultetus  stood 
with  folded  arms  gazing  on  the  ghastly  sight  with  a 
smile  of  exultation.  He  laid  no  touch  upon  the  wrecked 
church,  but  he  gloated  over  each  blow  dealt  to  those 
accursed  Popish  images.  The  church  was  like  some  mad 
dream  of  a  devastated  feasting-hall ;  the  ground  was  strewn 
with  silken  hangings,  with  velvets,  with  embroideries  of 
gold  and  silver  thread ;  golden  vases  rolled  on  the  stone 
floor ;  waxen  limbs  from  the  lesser  shrines  lay,  grotesque 
and  horrible,  in  the  folds  of  the  altar-cloths ;  gilt  and  silver 
candlesticks,  bent  and  twisted,  lay  about;  and  jewelled 
reliquaries,  despoiled  of  their  precious  stones,  were  mixed 
into  the  gorgeous  refuse  of  spoiled  beauty;  and  every- 
where, like  symbols  of  death,  lay  the  withered  flowers 
from  the  altars.  The  thunderous  noise  of  hammers  upon 
the  stone  rang  out  unceasingly,  while  ever  and  anon  a 
deafening  crash  told  that  another  statue  had  been  felled. 
A  knot  of  men  made  it  their  especial  task  to  empty  the 
reliquaries,  and  with  obscene  jests  the  sacred  dust  was 
flung  about,  and  the  brittle  bones  of  the  long  dead  were 
broken  and  thrown  into  the  air  with  lewd  shouts  for  their 
last  requiem  mass. 

Still,  over  all,  the  crucified  King  remained  inviolate, 
high  above  the  wrecked  rood-screen.  Only  two  things 
had  been  spared  by  the  destroyers — the  crucifix  and  the 
royal  oratory,  that  quaint  fifteenth-century  gallery  which 
clung  to  the  church  wall  like  a  swallow's  nest,  high  above 


190  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

the  ravagers'  reach.  But  it  was  not  for  this  reason  that 
the  oratory  had  been  spared;  Scultetus,  the  low-born 
preacher,  had  commanded  his  men  to  lay  no  touch  upon 
this  sacred  place  of  royal  prayer ;  and  thus,  although  the 
aureoled  figures  of  saints  were  mingled  with  the  emblems 
of  monarchy  in  the  ornaments  of  the  oratory,  they  had 
remained  scatheless. 

The  crimson  curtain  in  the  royal  gallery  was  thrust 
aside,  and  Friedrich,  King  of  Bohemia,  looked  down  and 
saw  how  his  new  country's  beloved  cathedral  was  turned 
into  the  shambles  of  beauty  and  a  fearful  picture  of  out- 
raged reverence.  Scultetus  saw  him  and  pointed  at  the 
destruction. 

"  As  the  Lord  purged  the  Temple,  so  have  I  cleansed 
this  church  of  the  dross  of  idolatry,"  he  said  sternly. 
The  wreckers,  seeing  King  Friedrich,  paused  in  their 
abominable  work. 

"  On,  my  friends  ! "  cried  Scultetus.  "  Pull  down  the 
last  vestige  of  the  heathen's  worship  ! "  His  glance  rested 
on  the  crucifix.  "  Ah  !  here  is  work  for  you  !  "  he  cried. 
"  Break  me  that  profane  thing  of  the  image-worshippers ! 
Down !  Down ! " 

Among  the  gentry  who  had  accompanied  Scultetus, 
indeed  those  who  had  led  the  work  of  destruction,  were 
six  Bohemians  of  the  lesser  nobility ;  these  were  Bushuslav, 
Berkha,  Budowitz,  young  Michaelowitz,  Berbistorf,  and 
Daniel  Secreta.  Calvinists  and  sworn  enemies  of  the 
priests,  they  had  joyed  in  the  havoc,  but  even  they  hung 
back  before  the  wrecking  of  the  crucifix.  It  was  Bohemia's 
most  venerated  shrine  this  great  crucifix  of  St.  Vitus,  and 
a  most  beauteous  work  of  the  twelfth  century. 

"  It  is  pity  to  break  that,  master,"  muttered  Berkha 
hesitatingly.  "  It  cannot  harm  to  leave  that." 

"  You  are  not  earnest  for  the  Faith,  sir !  Root  and 
branch  shall  this  church  be  cleansed  of  the  defilement 
of  filthy  idols,"  cried  Scultetus,  and  to  the  masons  he 
shouted :  "  On  to  your  task  !  I  will  pay  a  double  wage 
to  those  who  break  down  yonder  heathen  image."  His 
words  renewed  the  workmen's  ardour,  and  in  an  instant 


PRAGUE  191 

they  had  roped  the  head  of  Christ,  and  sixteen  men 
dragged  at  the  cords,  while  a  score  hewed  and  hammered 
at  the  base  of  the  cross. 

With  a  thunderous  crash  the  mass  of  stone  fell  to  the 
ground,  and  for  a  moment  the  wreckers  drew  back  in 
superstitious  awe,  for  the  whole  church  rocked,  as  if  the 
mighty  edifice  shuddered  at  the  sacrilege.  The  fall  had 
broken  the  stone  cross,  and,  among  the  crimson  velvets 
of  a  heap  of  altar-cloths,  the  Figure  of  the  Crucified 
lay  prone,  strangely  real  and  piteous  like  a  newly-slain 
victim.  The  awestruck  workmen  stood  huddled  together, 
but  Berbistorf,  recovering  from  his  momentary  fear,  sprang 
forward  and  touched  the  prone  Figure  with  his  foot. 

"  Ha  ! "  he  exclaimed,  laughing  gruffly.  "  Ha  !  Thou 
who  hast  claimed  to  save  sinners,  prove  now  Thy  power, 
save  Thyself !  Ho,  ho  !  He  cannot !  See,  comrades,  the 
idol  is  broken  down! "  Scornfully  the  blasphemer  spurned 
the  fallen  Christ.  "Wretched  doll  whom  fools  have 
worshipped ! "  he  cried,  and  spat  into  the  tranquil  Face 
beneath  the  crown  of  thorns.  It  is  well  known  how  wit 
is  sharpened  by  approval,  and  the  workmen's  rough 
laughter  again  inspired  Berbistorf. 

"  Bring  me  that  image  of  John,"  he  called ;  and  two 
score  of  eager  hands  obeyed  him.  The  statue  of  the 
beloved  Apostle  was  dragged  from  its  resting-place  against 
the  shattered  gates  of  the  royal  tomb  of  Bohemia. 

"  Here !  lay  the  thing  beside  the  woman  Mary,"  cried 
Berbistorf;  and  as  the  willing,  well-paid  hirelings  laid  the 
statue  next  to  that  of  the  blessed  Virgin,  Berbistorf  rolled 
the  sculptured  saint  against  Our  Lady's  statue,  and  laugh- 
ing loud,  cried  out :  * 

"Ye  loved  each  other  upon  earth;  there,  I've  put 
you  together  again  so  that  ye  may  be  free  to  love  once 
more ! " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  wherein  the  clink  of  the 
metal  rings  which  held  the  velvet  hangings  of  the  royal 
oratory  window  was  clearly  heard.  Friedrich,  King  of 
Bohemia,  had  closed  the  curtain,  and  had  disappeared 
from  the  sight  of  his  supporters,  who  were  doing  such 


192  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

glorious  work  for  Bohemia  and  the  Faith  in  the  name 
of  God. 

Seeing  that  the  King  had  fled  before  this  insult  to 
womanhood  in  the  person  of  God's  Blessed  Mother,  Scul- 
tetus  smiled.  Really,  his  Majesty  was  too  faint-hearted; 
but  it  mattered  not,  he,  Scultetus,  was  at  hand  to  battle 
for  the  pure  Faith  of  Calvin ;  and  he,  at  least,  would  never 
waver,  never  recoil  before  God's  service. 

The  King  left  the  royal  oratory,  and  hurried  through 
the  long  corridors  of  the  rambling  palace  to  the  Queen's 
apartments.  In  the  ante-chamber  he  met  Count  Schlick 
and  Bernard  Thurn.  Both  men  were  in  the  grip  of 
strong  emotion,  and  Schlick  poured  forth  a  stream  of 
soft,  swift  Czech  when  he  saw  the  king. 

"  Sire ! "  cried  Thurn,  silencing  his  voluble  companion, 
for  he  remembered  that  Friedrich  understood  no  word  of 
Czech,  "  there  is  terrible  work  afoot  in  the  Vitus  Church ! 
You  cannot  know  what  your  preacher  is  doing,  but,  for 
God's  sake,  stop  this  sacrilege  1  It  will  turn  the  heart 
of  every  Bohemian  against  you.  I  implore  you — 
Friedrich  stopped  him  with  a  haughty  wave  of  his  hand. 
"  My  young  Lord  of  Thurn,"  he  said  coldly,  "  you  are  for 
ever  trying  to  teach  me  my  duty.  You  forget  who  I 
am,  and  also  that  I  am  an  older  man  than  you ;  you 
should  learn  respect  for  my  riper  experience  ! " 

"You  may  be  a  hundred  years  older  than  I,  sire," 
cried  Thurn  hotly,  "  but  I  know  the  Bohemian  people 
as  you  cannot  know  them  yet.  The  experience  of  one 
country  is  useless  hi  another,  and  your  German  experi- 
ence cannot  aid  you  in  Bohemia.  There  is  no  time  to 
be  lost,  sire,  I  pray  you — I  pray  you,  stop  this  ruthless 
madman,  who  will  wreck  your  kingdom " 

"  Silence,  sir !  You  speak  of  your  superior  in  age  and 
knowledge!"  answered  the  King  pompously.  Thurn  spoke 
to  Schlick  in  Bohemian.  The  old  man  caught  the  King's 
arm,  and  addressed  him  in  a  choking  voice.  Friedrich 
looked  at  him.  In  spite  of  himself,  he  was  impressed  by 
Schlick's  manner. 


PRAGUE  193 

"Translate  what  the  Count  says,"  he  ordered  Thurn. 

"  Andreas  Schlick  tells  your  Majesty  what  each  Bohe- 
mian will  say  in  his  heart  to-day  when  he  hears  that 
our  country  is  in  the  hands  of  a  man  who  knows  no 
reverence  for  Bohemia  !  Count  Schlick  says  thus  :  '  The 
die  is  cast ! ' "  Thurn  replied  sternly. 

"  You  are  traitors,"  began  the  King  furiously, 

"  Nay,  sire,  we  are  no  traitors ;  but  we  know  that  he 
who  wounds  the  trust  of  Bohemians  will  receive  but  half- 
hearted service  from  them  in  his  dire  need,"  young  Thurn 
said. 

"  Arrest  this  gentleman  ! "  called  the  King  to  a  guard, 
who  stood  at  the  door  of  the  ante-chamber.  Thurn 
unfastened  his  sword-belt,  and,  kneeling,  presented  his 
sword  to  Friedrich. 

With  one  of  those  quick  changes  of  mood  to  which 
the  undecided  are  liable,  the  King  pushed  aside  the  prof- 
fered sword-hilt. 

"  Nay ;  you  meant  well.  Keep  your  sword,  and  learn 
that  you  cannot  browbeat  a  king,"  he  said  grandilo- 
quently, and  passed  into  the  Queen's  apartments. 

"  Alas,  for  Bohemia  !  "  exclaimed  Schlick.  "  We  have 
chosen  a  pretty  boy  who  can  play  at  being  king  in  a 
masquerade ;  but  we  wanted  either  a  strong  man  to  rule 
us,  or  a  puppet  to  obey  us.  King  Friedrich  is  neither  of 
these,  and  Bohemia  is  doomed." 

In  the  town  of  Prague  the  news  of  the  wrecking  of  St. 
Vitus  was  received  with  strange  indifference.  It  seemed 
as  though  Schlick  and  Thurn  had  miscalculated  the 
people's  love  for  their  ancient  church,  and  Friedrich, 
seeing  this,  felt  himself  the  more  secure,  more  than  ever 
the  master  of  his  people.  They  had  made  no  murmur 
against  the  enforcement  of  his  will  in  this  most  vital 
thing.  How  should  they  ?  he  argued,  since,  having 
chosen  a  Calvinist  for  their  King,  they  must  have  always 
understood  that,  though  as  champion  of  religious  freedom 
he  would  permit  the  Lutherans,  the  Bohemian  Brethren, 
and  even  the  few  remaining  Taborites  to  worship  as  they 
listed,  no  such  leniency  could  be  shown  to  Papists. 

N 


194  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

How  could  Friedrich  know  that  he  owed  his  people's 
calmness  to  the  Domherren  ?  He  did  not  dream  that 
the  priests,  gliding  through  the  narrow  streets,  whispered 
patience  to  the  people.  Patience !  for  had  not  the  Holy 
Father,  the  Pope  himself,  said  that  Friedrich  was  but  a 
king  of  snows,  like  to  the  snow  men  that  children  built 
in  winter,  he  and  his  dominion  would  melt  away  and 
vanish  in  a  little  time.  The  priests  wished  for  no  prema- 
ture revolt,  ending  in  bloodshed  and  ultimate  submission. 
They  waited,  knowing  that  the  Imperial  army  was  still 
too  far  away  to  aid  them ;  knowing  right  well,  too,  that 
Maximilian  of  Bavaria's  disciplined  troops  would  brush 
away  like  dust  the  feeble  resistance  of  the  ill-paid,  under- 
fed, half-hearted  Bohemian  army.  But  the  time  was  not 
yet,  and  the  priests  bade  the  people  to  wait  quietly,  and 
they  were  obeyed ;  for  though  many  to  whom  they  spoke 
were  Lutherans,  from  early  youth  they  had  known  the 
priests,  whereas  the  Calvinists  were  strangers  to  them. 
Also,  the  priests  spoke  to  them  in  their  own  tongue — 
that  soft,  well-beloved  language,  of  which,  as  the  priests 
reminded  the  people,  neither  Friedrich,  Elizabeth,  nor 
their  Court  knew  a  single  word. 

With  full  confidence  in  himself  and  his  prosperity,  the 
King  left  Prague  to  visit  his  new  dominions  in  Moravia 
and  Silesia.  He  was  accompanied  by  a  fine  retinue,  and 
by  Master  Scultetus.  It  was  a  triumph  to  the  preacher 
to  journey  thus  through  Silesia.  He,  the  son  of  a  Silesian 
peasant,  could  now  exhibit  himself  to  his  compatriots  as 
the  nearest  friend,  the  trusty  adviser,  the  ruler  of  a  king. 
King  Friedrich  tarried  longer  than  arranged  in  Silesia, 
and,  neglecting  Lusatia,  returned  forthwith  to  Prague  for 
the  baptism  of  his  infant  son.  Once  more  the  Hradcany 
Palace  was  the  scene  of  sumptuous  banqueting  and 
costly  rejoicings.  And,  as  a  fresh  mark  of  the  Bohe- 
mians' confidence,  the  King's  son  was  proclaimed  Crown 
Prince  of  Bohemia,  thus  confirming  the  heredity  of  the 
Bohemian  crown.  The  people  desired  the  newly  chris- 
tened infant,  Rupert,  to  be  their  Crown  Prince  ;  but  in 
this,  as  in  all  else,  they  bowed  to  the  King's  will,  and  the 


PRAGUE  195 

elder  brother,  Henry  Friedrich,  was  recognised  as  heir- 
apparent. 

Friedrich  was  complacent  in  his  prosperity,  and  he 
wrote  James  I.  a  glowing  account  of  the  splendour  of  a 
Bohemian  king,  reassuring  his  father-in-law  as  to  the 
stability  of  his  crown,  and  praising  his  army — which  he 
had  not  yet  inspected. 

The  people  of  Prague  were  unwearied,  it  seemed,  in 
paying  homage  to  their  King.  Even  the  Jews  gave 
proof  of  heartfelt  loyalty,  and  one  day  in  March  a  deputa- 
tion from  the  Ghetto  waited  on  their  Majesties.  A  group 
of  black-bearded  men,  clad  in  long  black  caftans  and  high 
black  three-tiered  hats,  kneeled  before  the  King  and  Queen, 
and  presented  her  Majesty  with  a  beautiful  diadem  which 
the  skilled  goldsmiths  of  the  Prague  Ghetto  had  wrought 
in  finest  gold  and  enriched  with  many  diamonds  and 
faultless  pearls. 

King  Friedrich  was  disinclined  to  be  gracious  to  the 
Jews  ;  he  considered  them  as  an  inferior  people  whom  all 
good  Christians  had  the  duty  to  oppress,  a  swarming  race 
which  was,  very  properly,  shut  into  a  filthy,  overpopulated 
quarter  of  all  great  cities ;  cringing  creatures  whom  it  was 
legitimate  to  tax  heavily ;  otherwise  he  deemed  them 
beneath  the  notice  of  any  reputable  German.  But,  for 
once,  the  Bohemian  nobles  succeeded  in  drowning  Scul- 
tetus'  voice  and  the  dictates  of  German  culture  and 
custom,  and  it  was  explained  to  the  King  that  the  Jews 
of  Prague  had  ever  been  allowed  a  freer  existence.  They 
had  been  permitted  to  hold  services  in  their  synagogue 
since  the  twelfth  century,  and  at  his  Majesty's  own  royal 
entrance  into  Prague,  and  on  the  coronation  day,  they 
had  even  been  allowed  the  honour  of  patrolling  the  streets 
with  barrels  of  water  strapped  upon  their  shoulders  to  be 
used  in  the  event  of  an  outbreak  of  fire.  So  Friedrich 
received  the  Jews  graciously,  and  deigned  to  accept  from 
them,  besides  the  diadem,  a  donation  of  ducats. 

Slowly  the  winter  left  Bohemia,  and  spring  came  to 
icebound  Prague.  The  gaieties  at  Court  were  more  bril- 
liant than  ever.  In  the  sixteenth-century  "  Hall  of 


196  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Homage  "  there  were  almost  daily  grand  banquets,  and 
in  the  "  German  Hall "  the  courtiers  danced  each  night. 
The  English  ladies  were  the  queens  of  the  revels.  Grace- 
ful, young,  sumptuously  dressed,  how  could  they  be  other- 
wise than  a  revelation  of  charm  to  the  Bohemian  gallants  ? 
Unwittingly  they  rendered  their  Queen  a  sorry  service,  for 
the  neglected  Bohemian  ladies  grew  jealous,  and  like  all 
jealous  women  they  ascribed  their  foreign  rivals'  triumphs 
to  unseemly  conduct.  Mistress  Alison  Hay  dancing  the 
couranto  with  my  young  Lord  of  Bustehrad,  her  fair  face 
aflush  with  youth  and  gaiety,  her  satin  bodice  cut  low  to 
show  her  white  neck  and  bosom,  seemed  to  the  envious 
Bohemian  damsels,  sitting  unnoticed  by  the  gallants,  to  be 
a  very  Phryne ;  and  my  Lady  Phyllis  Devereux,  laughing 
behind  her  fan  and  whispering  harmless  jests  to  Wratis- 
law  or  to  Duba,  was  to  them  a  Circe  enthralling  the  fickle 
hearts  of  men  with  evil  wiles.  Of  course,  the  more  sour 
the  Bohemian  ladies  looked  the  less  the  gallants  sought 
them  in  the  dance,  and  the  more  brilliantly  by  contrast 
shone  the  foreign  enchantresses.  As  for  the  Queen  herself 
there  were  soon  ugly  rumours  afloat  anent  her.  Bernard 
Thurn  was  her  enamoured  slave.  "  Of  course  ! "  whispered 
the  good  dames,  "  as  her  Christel  of  Anhalt  has  gone  to 
the  army  she  needs  must  find  another  lover."  Her 
Majesty's  low-cut  bodices  evoked  the  disapproval  of  the 
Bohemian  ladies.  "Bare-breasted  and  light-mannered," 
they  muttered  to  each  other  as  the  Queen  passed  them 
pacing  the  stately  Pavyn.  It  did  not  mend  matters  that 
the  Bohemian  gentlemen  were  outspoken  in  their  praise 
of  the  English  ladies,  or  that  they  angrily  repudiated 
their  compatriots'  insinuations  concerning  the  Queen  and 
her  Court.  Gradually  the  Bohemian  ladies  withdrew 
entirely  from  the  Court  in  the  Hradcany.  To  the  royal 
commands  they  pleaded  illness  or  fatigue  or  absence  at 
their  castles  in  the  country.  But  what  cared  her  Majesty  ? 
These  dull  creatures  with  their  unmodish  dress,  their 
stuffy  bodices  high  to  the  neck  like  to  travelling  or  hunt- 
ing corsages,  their  heavy,  sullen  faces  and  sour  looks,  were 
better  away,  her  Majesty  declared.  She  did  not  know  how 


PRAGUE  197 

full  of  fascination  those  heavy  Czechish  faces  can  be  if  a 
smile  touches  the  lips  and  lights  the  brooding,  sombre  eyes. 

But  the  Bohemian  gallants  were  assiduous  in  their 
attendance  at  Court,  and  the  revelry  continued  unabated. 

By  the  end  of  May  the  sun  beat  down  fiercely  on 
Prague,  and  the  burghers  commenced  their  usual  summer 
existence.  The  hostelries  set  out  hundreds  of  little  tables 
beneath  gay-coloured  awnings  in  the  streets,  and  the  city- 
bound  populace  feasted  and  made  merry.  In  the  cool  of 
the  evening  an  unending  stream  of  loiterers  paced  the 
chief  streets,  and  hung  about  in  the  squares,  a  laughing, 
chattering  crowd.  It  was  the  custom  for  the  people  to 
bathe  in  the  Moldau  beneath  the  ancient  bridge  between 
the  Two  Cities,  the  "  Old  Town  "  and  the  "  Small  Side  "  of 
Prague.  One  stifling  evening  the  King  and  a  few  German 
courtiers  chanced  to  pass  that  way.  Indolently  Friedrich 
leaned  over  the  bridge. 

"  How  cool  the  water  looks  ! "  he  said,  "  I  would  fain 
join  those  bathers  ! " 

"  Your  Majesty  could  not  bathe  with  such  filthy  rabble," 
cried  Schornberg,  aghast. 

"  They  are  not  rabble,  but  my  faithful  citizens,"  returned 
the  King.  "  I  have  a  mind  to  go  now,  and  show  them 
that  I  am  indeed  their  comrade  ! "  In  vain  Schornberg 
protested ;  Friedrich  was  set  upon  it,  and  passing  down 
to  the  river  bank  he  undressed  and  sprang  into  the  water. 
Like  wildfire  the  news  spread  through  the  crowd  of 
loiterers  in  the  city :  "  The  King  bathes  in  the  Moldau," 
and  to  Schomberg's  annoyance  he  saw  a  stream  of  on- 
lookers gathering  on  the  bridge,  and  he  heard  in  their 
laughter  both  surprise  and  derision,  though  he  could,  not 
understand  the  Czechish  words. 

At  length  the  King  left  the  water,  and  reclothed 
himself  on  the  bank,  the  crowd  laughing  and  jeering 
meanwhile.  With  flushed  cheeks  his  Majesty  rejoined 
Schomberg  and  the  courtiers. 

"I  love  my  people  to  know  that  I  am  one  of  them," 
Friedrich  said  with  pompous  humility.  Schomberg  shook 
his  head. 


198  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  See  ! "  cried  the  King,  "  with  what  affection  they  greet 
me  1 "  Bowing  and  smiling  he  passed  through  the  crowd, 
in  his  ignorance  of  the  language  mistaking  their  mocking 
remarks  and  laughter  for  affectionate  approval. 

Once  more  Friedrich  had  shown  his  lack  of  under- 
standing of  his  new  people.  In  Germany,  perhaps,  his 
unwonted  familiarity  would  have  been  counted  as  gracious 
condescension,  but  the  Czechs  loved  that  dignity  and 
mystery  which  comes  by  the  seclusion  and  aloofness  of 
the  great.  The  nobles  would  be  disgusted  by  the  thought 
of  their  King  swimming  about  beside  the  barber  and  the 
apothecary,  the  tailor's  apprentice  and  the  butcher's  lad, 
and  the  people  themselves  would  jeer  at  the  King.  This 
young  Thurn  set  forth  to  Schomberg  on  the  return  to  the 
Hradcany,  and  never  again  did  Friedrich  bathe  in  the 
Moldau ;  but  that  one  swim  had  been  sufficient  to  lessen 
the  Czechs'  respect  for  their  King.  Also  the  gossip  con- 
cerning the  levity  of  the  Court  festivities  spread  from  the 
noble  dames'  parlours  to  the  burghers  and  populace.  Un- 
remittingly the  Domherren  worked  to  depict  Friedrich  and 
his  Court  as  wanton  triflers,  and  by  the  summer  the  flame 
of  enthusiasm  which  had  greeted  the  new  King  had  died 
down  and  indifference  or  veiled  hostility  to  the  new 
monarchy  grew  apace. 

Her  Majesty  Elizabeth  knew  nothing  of  the  King's 
bathing  exploit,  for  Friedrich,  like  most  weak  men,  would 
liefer  have  confessed  a  crime  to  the  woman  he  loved  than 
have  owned  to  an  indiscreet  blunder. 

Elizabeth  was  happy  in  Prague.  Sometimes  she  smiled 
when  she  recalled  the  grim  menace  which  Captain  Bell 
had  revealed  to  her  at  the  Heidelberg  ball  four  years  since. 
Then  it  had  been  held  that,  an  she  visited  Prague,  she 
would  be  the  victim  of  murder ;  yet  here  she  was  Queen 
in  the  very  palace  where  the  Empress  Anna,  it  had  been 
said,  would  have  done  her  to  death.  Ah !  how  foolish  it 
had  all  been !  How  much  easier,  less  complicated,  less 
sombre  was  life  than  men's  fancy  painted  it !  All  was  well, 
had  been  well,  would  continue  well,  she  told  herself. 

There  came  a  rumour  that  Spanish  troops  under  Spinola 


PRAGUE  199 

menaced  the  Palatinate.  What  foolishness  !  Of  course, 
they  were  on  their  way  to  the  Spanish  Netherlands.  Had 
not  Gondomer,  the  Spanish  ambassador,  assured  King 
James  that  this  was  so  ? 

"  When  an  army  is  bound  for  a  distant  land,  can  it  fly 
over  an  intervening  country  ? "  her  Majesty  cried  when 
Friedrich  and  his  advisers  looked  grave.  How  should  the 
Spanish  King  dare  to  attack  the  lands  of  a  Prince  of  the 
Protestant  Union  ?  He  would  not  dare  to  violate  all 
treaties,  nor  to  risk  the  enmity  of  England,  of  Sweden, 
and  of  Denmark.  It  was  absurd  to  be  alarmed.  Yet 
Juliane  and  the  two  little  ones  had  best  journey  to 
Berlin  to  be  out  of  possible  harm's  way.  But  her  Majesty 
would  not  permit  her  Court  to  be  turned  into  a  collection 
of  anxious-faced  tremblers  before  this  menace,  which  was 
probably  no  menace  at  all,  as  she  said.  Men  are  easily 
convinced  of  that  which  they  wish  to  believe,  and  King 
Friedrich  thrust  aside  his  anxiety  and  plunged  again  into 
the  gay  Court  life.  He  hunted  and  feasted,  danced  and 
made  merry,  and  spoke  enthusiastically  of  the  future. 

One  brilliant  summer  morning  their  Majesties  and  their 
train  rode  from  the  Hradcany  Palace  down  the  steep  lane 
beside  the  stag  park  wall  towards  the  river.  The  Queen 
wore  a  flowing  green-velvet  robe  embroidered  with  silver,  a 
soft  broad-brimmed  brown  felt  hat  with  a  sweeping  plume, 
and  richly  embroidered  gauntlets,  and  such  was  the  mode 
adopted  by  the  ladies  who  followed  her.  The  King  and 
his  gallants,  too,  were  attired  for  the  chase  in  green  velvet 
doublets  slashed  with  silver,  and  soft  beplumed  felt  hats. 
Behind  the  Court  rode  an  army  of  huntsmen  and  stalwart 
falconers,  bearing  the  hooded  falcons  chained  to  their  wrists. 
The  young  birds  which  were  not  yet  fully  trained  were 
carried  by  henchmen  in  green-cloth  bags.  The  kennel- 
master  and  his  men  followed,  with  the  graceful,  eager 
coursers  straining  at  their  leashes  and  filling  the  air  with 
sharp  barks  and  yaps  of  pleasure. 

The  gallant  company  clattered  along  the  narrow  street, 
and  passed  on  to  the  Karlsbriicke,the  venerable  fourteenth- 
century  bridge  built  by  the  Emperor  Charles  IV.  Here 


200  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

was  a  hurrying  crowd :  peasants  with  empty  barrows  re- 
turning from  the  market,  merchants  in  sober-coloured 
raiment  hastening  to  their  business,  men-at-arms  in 
their  buff-leather  tunics,  heavy  boots  with  the  loose  tops 
drawn  high  above  the  knee,  and  small,  round,  burnished 
helmets  upon  the  undercaps  of  yellow  leather ;  here,  too, 
were  many  bearded  Jews  in  their  black  caftans  or  gaber- 
dines, and  their  high  three-tiered  hats,  whence  escaped  the 
long  black  hair  and  the  two  carefully  twisted  oily  curls, 
one  behind  each  ear.  An  old  woman,  wrapped  in  filthy 
rags,  crouched  on  the  coping  of  the  stone  bridge  balustrade, 
singing  a  monotonous  wailing  melody  almost  Eastern  in  its 
rhythm  and  its  weird  unusual  intervals.  It  was  a  true 
Bohemian  melody,  wild  and  despairing,  laden  with  all  the 
luxury  of  sadness  of  the  Slav  soul.  The  Queen  checked 
her  horse  an  instant. 

"  Give  her  a  golden  piece,  Schomberg,"  she  called,  "  her 
song  is  so  mournful  'twill  ring  in  my  ears  for  an  hour." 
She  rode  on  laughing  carelessly.  Beneath  the  bridge  a 
multitude  of  unclothed  men  and  women  were  splashing  in 
the  river,  unsightly  old  harridans  with  withered  breasts, 
and  young  women  displaying  their  bodies  with  perfect  un- 
concern— the  thoughtlessness  of  old  custom  not  of  brazen 
indecency ;  men  of  all  sorts,  young  and  muscular  like 
bronze  statues,  others  old,  sere,  and  yellow,  with  the  flaccid 
flesh  pendulous  upon  the  gaunt  framework  of  bone. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  flushed  angrily.  "  I  have  desired  it 
to  be  arranged  that  these  naked  bathers  should  not  be 
here  when  I  pass  over  this  bridge  !  "  she  cried.  The  King 
looked  uncomfortable.  After  his  own  bathing  exploit  he  had 
felt  it  difficult  to  forbid  the  people  to  bathe  near  the  bridge. 

"They  are  very  harmless—-"  he  began  hesitatingly. 

"  They  are  very  ugly  !  "  retorted  the  Queen.  "  I  will 
not  have  these  naked  bathers  near  the  bridge;  I  will  never 
pass  this  way  till  they  are  removed."  As  she  spoke  the 
cavalcade  rode  past  the  ancient  crucifix  on  the  centre  of 
the  bridge.  A  thin-faced  man  in  a  priest's  shabby  cassock 
stood  near  and  heard  the  Queen's  words.  She  had  spoken 
in  French. 


PRAGUE  201 

Gaily  the  hunting-party  rode  through  the  Old  Town 
and  out  into  the  forest  beyond  the  city,  and,  in  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  hawking  and  coursing,  Elizabeth  soon  forgot 
her  temporary  annoyance. 

Master  Scultetus  had  not  accompanied  their  Majesties 
that  day,  he  had  a  more  congenial  task  in  hand.  The 
preceding  evening  he  had  received  the  King's  permission 
for  the  destruction  of  the  crucifix  on  the  Emperor  Charles' 
Bridge,  and  that  day  he  repaired  to  the  town  councillors 
to  convey  his  Majesty's  commands  for  the  removal  of  the 
idolatrous  image.  To  his  surprise  he  found  the  city 
authorities  stubborn  in  their  refusal  to  carry  out  these 
orders.  The  crucifix  was  an  ancient  landmark,  an  historic 
relic  of  Bohemia's  beloved  Emperor  Charles  IV.;  the  people 
would  rise  in  revolt  if  it  were  removed.  They  assured 
Master  Scultetus  that  it  would  be  unwise  to  pull  down 
this  cross,  they  begged  him  to  spare  it ;  but  the  preacher 
insisted,  and  high  words  passed  in  the  Rathaus.  Finally 
the  authorities  definitely  refused  to  order  the  removal  of 
the  crucifix,  and  Scultetus  returned  to  the  Hradcany 
Palace  to  brood  over  his  rebuff.  He  decided  that  it  would 
be  best  not  to  acquaint  the  King  of  this  embroglio.  His 
Majesty  was  both  weak  and  lenient,  and  might  order  the 
Bohemians'  cherished  cross  to  be  spared. 

While  Scultetus  was  pondering,  and  their  Majesties 
were  enjoying  the  hawking,  a  thin-faced  man  in  a  shabby 
cassock  was  despatching  some  fifty  priests  through  the 
streets  of  Prague  on  a  special  mission.  This  mission  was 
merely  the  repeating  of  two  sentences :  "  Father  Wladislas 
heard  the  Queen  order  the  destruction  of  the  great  crucifix. 
She  said  she  would  never  ride  over  the  bridge  until  the 
naked  bather — so  she  called  the  Christ  on  the  Cross — had 
been  removed.1"1  Into  a  hundred  stifling  alleys,  up  many 
steep,  dingy  staircases,  into  burgher's  house  and  poor  man's 
hovel,  the  priestly  emissaries  passed,  delivering  their  mes- 
sage without  comment. 

On  the  morrow  at  dawn  a  band  of  workmen  repaired  to 
the  Karlsbriicke.  They  were  met  by  a  host  of  defiant  men 
who  asked  their  business.  The  workmen  replied  that  by 


202  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

the  King's  command  they  had  come  to  take  down  the 
crucifix.  Calmly  the  spokesman  of  the  rabble,  a  thin- 
faced  man,  clad  in  a  sober-coloured  tunic,  answered  that 
the  first  worker  who  laid  his  chisel  to  the  crucifix  would 
be  a  dead  man  ere  the  church  clocks  tolled  the  hour  again. 
The  hirelings  slunk  away.  Silently  the  crowd  on  the 
bridge  waited.  Hour  after  hour  they  stood  hi  the  blazing 
sun  guarding  the  crucifix.  Late  in  the  afternoon  the  city 
authorities  appeared  and  informed  the  crowd  that  his 
Majesty  had  reconsidered  his  decision,  and  the  crucifix 
would  remain  where  it  had  stood  for  three  hundred  years. 
The  people  had  won  a  victory  over  their  King,  but,  as 
the  priests  reminded  them,  the  light-minded  Queen  had 
vowed  never  to  pass  over  the  bridge  till  the  "  Naked 
Bather"  was  removed.  They  must  watch  whether  she 
had  repented  of  her  impious  saying.  If  she  rode  as 
usual  over  the  bridge  it  would  denote  that  she  was 
penitent,  but  if  she  avoided  it  they  might  know  that  she 
adhered  to  her  blasphemous  vow. 


CHAPTER     XII 

THE   KING'S   VISION 

"  Oh,  blindness  to  the  future,  kindly  given, 
That  each  may  fill  the  circle  marked  by  heaven ; 
Who  sees  with  equal  eye,  as  God  of  all, 
A  hero  perish  or  a  sparrow  fall, 
Atoms  or  systems  into  ruin  hurl'd, 
And  now  a  bubble  burst,  and  now  a  world." — POPE. 

FIERCELY  the  sun  glared  down  on  the  city  of 
Prague,  and  the  Moldau  became  a  mere  thread 
between  shelving  banks  of  reeking  mud,  while  a 
stale,  sickly  stench  rose  from  the  dirty  streets.  Elizabeth 
Stuart  remained  in  the  fresher  air  of  the  palace  gardens 
on  the  crest  of  the  Hradcin  hill.  For  the  most  part,  when 
she  rode  out  she  took  her  way  across  the  White  Moun- 
tain to  the  stag  park  around  the  Star  Palace.  Once  or 
twice  she  rode  to  the  Karlstein  fortress  in  the  hills,  and 
young  Thurn  proudly  showed  her  Bohemia's  glory,  as  he 
called  the  castle,  with  its  tier  upon  tier  of  cyclopic  walls. 
He  showed  her,  too,  the  heavy  stones  which  the  besieging 
Hussites  had  flung  into  the  fortress,  but  he  boasted  that 
Karlstein  had  never  been  captured.  Only  treachery  could 
open  the  gates  to  an  enemy,  he  said. 

"  How  now,  sir !  "  cried  her  Majesty,  laughing.  "  This 
castle  is  to  be  garrisoned  by  a  troop  of  English  gentlemen 
who  have  volunteered  in  my  service.  You  will  not  dare 
to  suggest  that  my  countrymen  could  be  traitors  ? " 

"  Nay,  madame.  I  do  not  know  these  English  gentle- 
men. An  it  comes  to  warfare  in  this  country,  I  trust  them 
to  match  our  Czechish  bravery,"  he  answered  courteously. 

Her  Majesty  did  not  share  Thurn's  enthusiasm  for  Karl- 
stein, she  vowed  it  was  too  strong  to  be  alluring,  and  that 


203 


204  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

she  felt  melancholy  steal  over  her  in  that  grim  mountain 
scenery.  The  Star  Palace  was  more  to  her  liking,  and 
thither  she  repaired  almost  daily.  Thus  she  avoided  the 
pestilential  smells  of  the  sun-baked  city  and  the  ugly  sight 
of  the  naked  bathers  in  the  Moldau,  for  although  the  river 
was  so  poor  in  water,  the  townsfolk  adhered  to  their 
custom,  and  splashed  in  dozens  in  the  muddy  water. 

During  the  summer  it  was  rumoured  in  Prague  that  the 
Hungarian  crown  would  be  offered  to  King  Friedrich,  the 
adventurer  Bethlem  Gabor,  Prince  of  Transylvania,  having 
refused  the  honour  of  the  throne  of  Hungary.  Though 
Friedrich  affected  to  consider  this  an  absurd  rumour,  still 
he  was  flattered  thereby.  His  confidence  in  himself  and 
his  splendid  destiny  was  increased,  and  when  a  few  weeks 
later  the  news  came  that  Gabor  had,  after  all,  accepted  the 
Hungarian  crown,  his  Majesty  was  visibly  disappointed. 

One  brilliant  late  August  afternoon  the  King  and  Queen 
and  their  Court  rode  along  the  crest  of  the  White  Moun- 
tain to  the  Star  Palace.  The  dust  lay  thick  on  the  narrow 
road,  and  the  scant  grass  on  the  long,  low  hill  hardly  showed 
against  the  grey  of  the  arid  chalky  soil. 

"  The  White  Mountain  justifies  its  name  to-day,"  said 
Elizabeth  as  she  rode  along. 

"  'Tis  dreary  enough,"  replied  the  King  gloomily.  He 
was  in  one  of  his  sombre  moods  that  day,  and  the  feast 
at  the  Star  Palace  had  been  designed  by  her  Majesty  to 
cheer  him  from  his  ill-humour. 

They  drew  near  to  the  park.  Here  all  was  fresh  and 
cool ;  the  air  was  fragrant  Avith  the  resinous  scent  of  the 
fir-trees  and  a  gentle  breeze  stirred  the  branches.  Her 
Majesty's  jennet  broke  into  a  canter,  and  the  troop  of 
courtiers  followed  laughing  and  chattering.  They  dis- 
mounted at  the  gate  of  the  Pavilion. 

"  Ah !  how  cool  and  sweet ! "  cried  Elizabeth,  as  she 
entered  the  centre  hall.  "  And  what  have  we  here  to  enter- 
tain us  ? "  she  added,  for  from  out  a  room,  which  formed 
one  of  the  points  of  the  star,  floated  a  strain  of  music. 

"  I  have  made  bold,  your  Majesty,  to  order  these 
musicians  to  play,"  said  young  Thurn,  "  it  is  a  wandering 


THE  KING'S  VISION  205 

French,  troupe,  and  I  deemed  they  might  wile  away  an 
hour  for  you."  Her  Majesty  smiled  approval.  In  Heidel- 
berg she  had  often  been  amused  by  travelling  minstrels  or 
playactors,  for  these  itinerant  French  or  English  mimes 
wandered  from  Court  to  Court  in  Germany  and  Italy. 
Especially  the  English  playactors  were  frequent  visitors, 
and  thus  were  Shakespeare's  plays,  Ben  Jonson's  masks, 
and  even  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  crude  dramas,  made 
familiar  in  many  lands.  But  Bohemia  was  a  far-off  country, 
beyond  the  route  of  these  wanderers.  Probably  the 
Frenchmen  had  beguiled  the  tedium  of  the  camps  alike 
of  Bucquoi,  of  Mansfeld  in  Pilsen,  and  of  the  chief  Bo- 
hemian army  on  the  borders  of  Lower  Austria,  and  now 
had  even  penetrated  to  Prague. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  hailed  with  delight  the  advent  of 
something  new,  for  albeit  she  had  made  merry  in  Prague 
she  had  been  keenly  aware  of  the  stagnation  which  always 
broods  over  the  cities  which  lie  far  from  the  main  stream 
of  life.  Through  Heidelberg  travellers  had  ridden  on 
their  road  from  north  to  south,  but  who  should  journey 
through  Prague  ? 

"  Bid  your  musicians  sing  the  newest  romances  of 
France,"  the  Queen  cried,  as  she  sat  down  to  the  repast 
which  was  laid  out  in  the  central  hall. 

The  French  minstrels  sang  a  few  amorous  conceits,  and 
a  many  free  political  ballads,  absurd  songs  about  the  Con- 
cinis  with  rough  puns  on  their  title,  such  as  that  the 
Court  of  France  was  white  as  snow  now  that  1'Encre 
(Concini  had  been  created  Marquis  d'Ancre)  had  been 
removed,  a  grim  jest  enough  when  we  remember  how 
Marie  de  Medici's  favourite  had  been  brutally  done  to 
death,  but  the  Bohemian  Court  laughed  at  the  song,  so 
all  was  well.  There  were  pasquinades  against  Louis  XIII. 
and  his  Due  de  Luynes,  and  mention  of  an  intriguing 
priest,  a  Bishop  of  Luc,on ;  again  puns :  "  Ce  Richelieu 
a  quitte  ce  riche  lieu  de  Paris,"  and  so  on ;  all  the  swift 
mocking  wit  of  Parisian  song — gay,  light,  diverting.  Mean- 
while King  Friedrich  and  the  courtiers  discussed  the  news 
of  the  world. 


206  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  I  hear  our  cousin  of  Brunswick  would  fain  leave  mine 
uncle  Maurice's  service  and  join  us  in  Bohemia,"  the  King 
said  after  a  time. 

"  A  fine  soldier  'tis  said,"  answered  Dohna,  who  sat  near 
the  Queen,  "  but  so  wild  and  evil  of  life  that  he  devastates 
a  province  more  than  a  whole  army." 

"  Is  it  he  who  at  Haarlem  threw  the  intruding  husband 
out  of  the  man's  own  lawful  bedchamber  window  ? "  asked 
a  Bohemian  noble. 

"  Ah !  sir,"  cried  the  King,  laughing,  "  has  that  little 
history  travelled  so  far  ?  Yes,  it  is  Christian  of  Bruns- 
wick who  did  that,  so  the  story  runs."  And  now  the 
whole  company  fell  to  talking  of  the  "  mad  Halberstadter," 
as  Duke  Christian  was  called,  from  his  possession  as  Ad- 
ministrator or  Lay  Bishop  of  the  See  of  Halberstadt. 

Her  Majesty  sat  silent;  during  the  last  few  months  she 
had  heard  a  plethora  of  sorry  tales  concerning  her  close 
kinsman,  and  a  strong  distaste  for  him  had  grown  up  in 
her  mind.  She  well  remembered  his  kindly  sister  Sophie, 
Countess  of  Nassau,  who  had  been  so  friendly  to  her  in 
Holland  on  the  journey  from  England  to  Heidelberg  some 
seven  years  since.  Also  Elizabeth  had  been  told  that  this 
evildoer's  mother — her  own  aunt,  the  Duchess  Elizabeth 
of  Brunswick — had  near  broke  her  heart  over  her  son's 
riotous  way  of  living. 

"  Is  my  cousin  of  Brunswick  coming  to  Prague  ? "  her 
Majesty  interrupted  suddenly.  Friedrich  was  laughing 
loudly  at  some  broad  anecdote  which  Dohna  had  told  in 
Lathi.  The  King  turned  to  Elizabeth. 

"  Your  pardon,  ma  mie,  I  did  not  hear  what  you  said  ? " 
he  queried. 

"  I  asked  if  you  would  permit  this  evil  kinsman  of  mine 
to  come  to  Prague  ? "  she  repeated. 

"  Why  not,  madame  ?  Are  you  afraid  for  your  damsels' 
honour  ? "  said  the  King  lightly. 

"  Indeed,  sire,  we  should  welcome  a  new  gallant !  I 
warrant  he  would  behave  well  enough  to  us ;  we  are  not 
like  the  foolish  Mevrouws  and  Fraules  of  Holland  !  "  cried 
my  Lady  Phyllis  Devereux. 


THE  KING'S  VISION  207 

"  Be  silent,  Phyllis  ! "  commanded  her  Majesty.  "  The 
Halberstadter  is  no  subject  for  the  talk  of  an  honest 
maid."  A  silence  fell  on  the  company  for  an  instant,  and 
the  French  singers  burst  forth  once  more  into  a  gay  ditty 
which  told  of  virtuous  ladies  resisting  love.  Each  couplet 
recounted  the  delicious  defeat  of  womanly  resistance  to  the 
lordship  of  passion,  and  finished  with  the  refrain : — 

"  Inustiles  sont  appastz 
Si  parfaictz  et  delicatz 
Parfumes  dans  leurs  atours ! 
Vaine  est  ceste  beaute 
Si  oncques  n'avez  gouste 
Puyssans  et  vrays  amours." 

"  So  says  the  Halberstadter  too,  ma  reine ! "  cried 
Friedrich,  laughing. 

"  Such  men  do  not  know  the  meaning  of  '  Puyssans  et 
vrays  amours.'  As  our  own  poet,  Master  Shakespeare,  hath 
it :  '  Call  it  not  Love,  for  Love  to  heaven  is  fled,  since 
sweating  Lust  on  earth  usurp'd  his  name,' "  she  answered. 

"  Ah  !  learned  Queen ! "  said  Friedrich  merrily.  "  What 
can  a  poor  wight  such  as  I  answer  to  so  erudite  a  lady  ? " 
The  Queen  rose. 

"  'Tis  time  to  leave  our  lords  when  they  are  bestowing 
that  pitying  praise  to  woman's  wit  which  nearly  always 
means,  methinks,  that  in  the  argument  the  kings  of  the 
world  have  been  a  trifle  worsted  ! " 

The  laughing  company  broke  up,  and  the  ladies  and 
gallants  wandered  away  into  the  park.  Elizabeth  Stuart 
and  the  King  lingered  near  the  gate.  The  Queen  spoke 
of  the  strangeness  of  a  pavilion  being  thus  strongly 
fortified. 

"  There  is  something  sombre  in  the  thought  that  even 
this  place,  meant  for  alfresco  feasts  and  courtly  gaiety, 
must  needs  be  girt  by  such  ponderous  walls,"  she  said 
musingly. 

"  We  will  pull  down  these  frowning  defences,  dear  heart, 
an  it  pleases  you,"  replied  King  Friedrich,  "  and  I  will 
have  flowering  parterres  planted  here  next  spring.  We 
will  send  for  good  Maitre  De  Caus,  and  he  shall  make 


208  THE   WINTER  QUEEN 

a  paradise  of  flowers  here  for  you.  '  Roses  red  and  roses 
white,  growing  for  my  love's  delight,'  as  Mistress  Alison 
Hay's  old  Scotch  song  saith."  They  fell  to  talking  of 
Heidelberg  and  their  beloved  garden.  Ah,  well !  next 
year  Master  De  Cans  should  turn  the  Hradcany  gardens 
into  a  marvel  of  beauty. 

"  An  we  be  not  attacked  by  the  Emperor  ere  then," 
said  Elizabeth  with  sudden  anxiety. 

"  Nay,  there  may  be  a  short  campaign  on  the  borders 
of  Lower  Austria,"  he  answered  reassuringly, "  but  Bucquoi, 
as  heretofore,  will  always  hesitate  to  attack  us.  Here  we 
are  safe  enough,  for  our  army  is  between  us  and  our 
undecided  foes.  I  have  no  fear  for  the  future."  He 
took  her  hand  and  kissed  the  delicate  palm  gently.  "  The 
future !  Ah  !  the  present  is  enough  for  me  ! "  he  murmured 
amorously. 

A  great  stillness  lay  over  the  summer  evening,  and 
the  air  was  heavy  with  the  scent  of  the  sun-kissed  fir 
groves.  Already  the  shadows  of  the  trees  fell  in  ever- 
lengthening  shapes  upon  the  clipped  grass  between  the 
wood  and  the  pavilion,  and  the  dying  sun  shone  in  a 
glory  upon  the  Queen  as  she  stood  gazing  out  towards 
the  west. 

"  Such  wondrous  peace ! "  she  said  dreamily.  "  Some 
day  when  you  are  Emperor  of  all  the  Protestant  lands, 
I  shall  retreat  to  the  Star  Palace  and  console  my  old  age 
with  the  memory  of  our  happy  days  together,"  she  spoke 
jestingly. 

"  You  would  leave  me,  sweet  heart  of  mine  ? "  he 
queried. 

"  Ah  !  Never !  never  ! "  she  answered,  suddenly  serious. 
"  My  poor  child-lover !  how  could  I  leave  you  while  you 
needed  me  ? " 

"  And  I  shall  always  need  you,"  he  said.  "  Without 
you  I  am  nothing ! "  She  smiled  tenderly,  yet  in  her 
heart  she  wearied  because,  she  being  always  the  stronger 
one  in  all  relations  of  life,  she  would  have  loved  to  be 
weak ;  she  was  too  strong  to  rest,  and  she  knew  it  would 
be  so  infinitely  restful  to  be  weak — sometimes. 


THE  KING'S  VISION  209 

"  The  shadows  grow,  dear  ray  lord,"  she  said.  "  We 
must  ride  back  to  Prague.  Already  the  dew  is  falling. 
See  ! "  And  lifting  her  green  velvet  riding-skirt  a  little, 
she  showed  him  how  its  hem  was  wet  and  how  the  silver 
braid  glittered  with  the  dew. 

They  returned  to  the  pavilion,  and  the  huntsman  in 
attendance  blew  a  shrill  blast  upon  his  horn  to  summon 
the  ladies  and  their  gallants  back  from  their  wanderings. 
Like  a  flight  of  birds  of  gay  plumage  the  ladies  hurried 
back  to  the  Star  Palace. 

"  Back  to  Prague  already  ? "  cried  my  Lady  Phyllis ; 
"  but,  madame,  'tis  mighty  pleasant  here  ! " 

"  The  dew  is  falling,  my  lady ;  'tis  high  time  we  were  on 
the  road,"  said  Amalia  Solms  primly,  though  she,  too,  had 
been  making  merry  and  her  fair,  heavy  face  was  aglow 
with  laughter. 

"  One  more  draught  of  sack,  mesdames ! "  called  the  King 
gaily.  "A  stirrup-cup  to  sustain  us  on  the  ride  homeward." 

"  Let  us  go  up  to  the  western  turret  and  see  how  beauti- 
ful the  White  Mountain  looks  in  the  red  glow  of  the  setting 
sun  !  "  cried  my  young  Lord  of  Bustehrad. 

"  Well  said,  my  lord ! "  laughed  Elizabeth  Stuart. 
"  Come !  we  will  see  this  pretty  sight  while  the  lackeys 
prepare  the  goblets  for  our  stirrup-cup." 

The  whole  company  trooped  up  the  broad,  shallow  steps 
to  the  first  floor  of  the  pavilion.  Here  the  western  win- 
dows glittered  like  fiery  jewels  in  the  glory  of  the  sunset. 
From  below  came  the  lilt  of  a  song  which  the  French 
minstrels  had  struck  up  as  envoi  to  this  gay  feast. 

"  A  galliard  !  A  galliard  ! "  called  the  Queen.  "  Tell 
them  to  play  us  a  galliard  tune ;  we  will  have  one  dance 
ere  the  sun  sets ! "  Young  Thurn  hurried  to  give  the 
order  to  the  musicians,  and  right  merrily  the  melody  rang 
out.  In  the  rosy  light  of  the  dying  sun  the  gems  flashed  as 
the  ladies  bowed  and  pirouetted.  It  was  a  graceful  throng 
of  happy  youths  and  maidens,  clad  almost  alike  in  green 
velvet  and  silver  braiding.  They  seemed  a  troupe  of  play- 
actors personating  the  Hunter's  Dance  at  some  masquerade. 
There  was  much  laughter,  much  light  jesting. 


210  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Elizabeth  Stuart  only  trod  a  short  measure  and  then 
retired  from  the  dance.  She  leaned  against  the  carven 
pillar  of  the  open  fireplace  and  watched  the  dancers,  call- 
ing to  them  gaily  not  to  be  so  quickly  weary,  or  to  dance 
more  swiftly.  Presently  the  King,  too,  disengaged  himself 
from  the  dancing  company. 

"  The  night  falls  apace,"  he  said  to  the  Queen.  "  We 
must  soon  end  your  impromptu  ball,  ma  mie."  In  truth, 
the  sun's  glow  was  fading  and  the  casement-panes  gleamed 
golden  instead  of  ruby  red. 

The  King  went  to  the  window  and  stood  silent.  Sud- 
denly Elizabeth  heard  him  utter  a  stifled  cry.  In  an 
instant  she  was  beside  him. 

"  What  ails  you  ? — Friedrich  ? — why  did  you  cry  out?" 
she  said ;  but  he  made  no  answer,  his  eyes  were  fixed,  as 
if  in  horror,  on  the  silent  ridge  of  the  White  Mountain. 
His  cheek  had  grown  deathly  pale,  and  his  white  lips  moved 
as  though  he  counted  some  advancing  enemy. 

"  Friedrich — Friedrich — what  is  it  ? "  the  Queen  cried, 
and  caught  his  arm. 

One,  two,  three,  four.  One,  two,  three,  four.  The  jig- 
ging rhythm  of  the  galliard  rang  on,  and  the  swish  of 
skirts,  the  quick  sound  of  dancing  feet  beat  time  merrily. 

"  Friedrich — beloved  !  What  ails  thee  ?  "  she  cried 
again.  Now  with  shaking  finger  he  pointed  at  the 
deserted  hill-land,  lying  dreaming  there  in  the  last  rays 
of  the  dying  sun. 

"  They  fly ! — one — all ! — like  madmen — throwing  their 
muskets  away — there  the  men-at-arms — see  !  Ah !  the 
riders — all — all " 

"  Friedrich  !  thou  art  mad  !  Oh  !  for  the  dear  God's 
sake,  stop  the  galliard  !  "  she  called  wildly.  "  Cease  !  Do 
you  not  see  that  the  King  is  ill  ? "  But  the  dancers  did 
not  hear  her ;  they  were  full  of  their  own  mirth,  and  the 
music  and  the  laughter  drowned  the  Queen's  voice ;  only 
Amalia  Solms,  who  had  fallen  out  of  the  galliard — Amalia 
Solms,  faithful  and  inquisitive — came  to  her  side. 

"  What  has  befallen  madame  ?  What  is—  •"  she  began, 
but  her  sentence  trailed  away  before  the  anguish  in  the 


THE  KING'S  VISION  211 

King's  face.  He  stood,  like  one  bereft  of  reason,  pointing 
at  the  silent,  deserted  country. 

"  More — they  fly !  The  banners  are  thrown  down — the 
horses  struggle — God  in  heaven !  not  one  company  stead- 
fast! — Yes — yes!  one  company  fights — they  are  coming 
hither,  to  the  Star  Palace  ! — Oh  !  merciful  Jesu  !  they  are 
trampled  down — "  the  words  came  haltingly  from  his 
blanched  lips,  yet  he  told  of  this  horror  as  one  who,  watch- 
ing from  a  tower,  sees  a  battle  deployed  before  him. 

Ever  faster  rang  out  the  tripping  measure  of  the  gal- 
liard.  The  Queen  leaned  beside  the  King,  gazing  through 
the  casement  into  the  gathering  gloom,  at  that  still  hill- 
land,  where  she  perceived  nothing  save  the  infinite  calm 
of  the  ending  of  a  summer's  day — but  where  he  saw  this 
terrible  vision  of  a  degraded  army  flying  in  craven  panic. 

The  galliard  ended  with  a  triumph  of  brisk  chords  from 
the  stringed  instruments,  and  the  dancers,  laughing  and 
breathless,  made  their  final  bows.  Then  seeing  the  King 
and  Queen  at  the  window  they  gathered  round. 

"  How  good  a  thought  'twas  of  your  Majesty's  to  have 
us  dance  the  galliard  ! "  cried  Mistress  Alison. 

"  Indeed,  'twas  best  of  all  this  bright  day !  "  said  my 
Lady  Phyllis.  "  But,  madame  ! "  she  added  anxiously,  as 
the  Queen  turned  to  her  with  blanched  cheeks  and 
anguished  eyes,  "  what  ails  your  Majesty  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  child,"  said  Elizabeth  Stuart,  seeing  curious 
looks  on  all  the  faces  around  her,  "  I  am  right  well,  but 
the  King  has  had  a  dizzy  fit.  Open  the  window,  Amalia, 
and — forgive  me,  my  friends,  but  I  think  'twere  kinder 
an  you  left  us  alone  for  a  while.  A  moment's  quiet  will 
restore  his  Majesty."  There  was  much  dignity  in  Elizabeth 
Stuart's  mien  just  then — commanding,  courteous,  calm  ; 
though  her  voice  was  a  trifle  unsteady  and  her  bosom 
rose  and  fell  as  if  she  had  been  running. 

The  courtiers  withdrew  silently,  only  Amalia  Solms 
lingered.  "  I  pray  you,  if  you  love  me,  friend,"  the  Queen 
whispered,  "  say  no  word  of  this.  The  King  was  giddy 
from  the  heat,  that  is  all."  Amalia  bowed  her  head  and 
went  out. 


212  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

The  King  still  stood  motionless,  gazing  into  the  deepen- 
ing twilight.  Amalia  Solms  had  pushed  open  one  side  of 
the  window,  and  a  cool  breath  of  air  wafted  in  the  frag- 
rance of  the  summer  evening. 

"  Friedrich,"  said  the  Queen  in  a  low  voice,  "  you  have 
dreamed  an  ugly  dream.  It  is  some  fantasy  of  an  over- 
wrought brain.  You  are  weary,  beloved,  and  have 
dreamed."  She  laid  her  arm  round  him,  and  leaned  her 
cheek  against  his  shoulder. 

"  I  saw  it — God  in  heaven !  You  would  not  have  me 
think  myself  mad  ?  I  tell  you  I  saw  my  army  in  full 
flight !  "  he  said  hoarsely. 

"  God  gave  prophetic  illumination  to  His  saints  of  old," 
she  answered ;  "  He  sends  no  miraculous  visions  to  man 
to-day.  No,  you  are  not  mad,"  she  even  laughed  a  little, 
though  she  was  trembling,  "  I  saw  what  you  saw " 

"  You  saw  it  too,  then  ? "  he  cried.     "  Ah  !  thank  God  ! " 

"  Hush,"  she  said  soothingly,  "  I  saw  a  mighty  black 
cloud  over  the  White  Mountain,  and  on  the  bare  hill  those 
few  stunted  trees,  which,  in  the  half-light,  look  like  hurry- 
ing figures — Friedrich,  there  was  nothing  else  !  Believe 
me.  Ah  !  dearling,  when  have  I  ever  spoken  untruth  to 
you  ? " 

"  What  did  I  see,  then  ? "  he  asked,  like  a  wondering 
child  willing  to  be  consoled,  a  child  who  is  pathetically 
eager  to  have  the  spectre  which  frightened  it  shown  to  be 
but  a  foolish  delusion. 

"  You  are  weary — overwrought  with  working  at  State 
matters,  and  your  own  mind  tricked  you  out  a  seeming 
vision.  From  a  cloud  and  a  few  stunted  trees  you  made 
a  flying  army.  Look  again — the  cloud  is  still  there,  and 
the  twisted  trees  on  the  gaunt  hillside."  The  King 
gazed  out. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  slowly,  "  I  see — it  was  nothing — I  have 
dreamed  ! " 

She  led  him  away  down  the  broad  winding  staircase  to 
the  central  hall  where  the  courtiers  waited  with  anxious 
faces. 

"  The   King  is   well    again ! "    Elizabeth    cried    gaily. 


THE  KING'S  VISION  213 

"  'Twas  nothing,  only  a  moment's  dizziness  from  the  heat. 
And  now  the  stirrup  cup ;  I  pledge  you  all !  Health  and 
happiness!"  She  took  the  golden  goblet,  proffered  by 
Thurn  on  bended  knee. 

"  Health  and  happiness ! "  she  cried  again,  "  and  I 
drink  to  our  next  galliard  in  the  Star  Palace." 

Right  merrily  they  rode  back  to  Prague.  Never  had 
the  King  been  more  debonnair,  more  gay  and  full  of  jest 
and  laughter,  and  Elizabeth  Stuart  had  never  seemed 
more  carelessly  happy.  Once  she  turned  in  her  saddle 
and  looked  back.  A  red  glow  as  of  blood  seemed  to 
lurk  behind  the  gathering  blue  of  night  over  the  Star 
Palace. 

"  A  wild  sky,"  she  said  lightly.  "  Strange  that  after  so 
bright  a  day  the  evening  -should  hold  so  fierce  a  menace. 
Methinks  it  is  our  last  ride  to  the  Star  Palace  for  a 
time." 

That  night  brought  riders  to  Prague,  the  one  a  bearer 
of  despatches  from  Germany,  the  other  a  messenger  from 
France.  The  German  letters  informed  the  King  that  the 
Princes  of  the  Protestant  Union,  hearing  that  Bethlem 
Gabor  had  concluded  an  armistice  with  the  Emperor,  had 
signed  at  Ulm  a  treaty  with  Maximilian  of  Bavaria,  the 
head  of  the  Catholic  League.  By  this  treaty  the  Pro- 
testant Princes  undertook  neither  to  oppose  the  Imperial 
army  in  Germany,  nor  to  aid  the  rebellion  against  the 
Emperor  in  Bohemia.  In  return  Maximilian  promised  that 
the  Imperial  troops  would  respect  the  neutrality  of  these 
Protestant  rulers'  domains,  including  the  Palatinate.  The 
same  messenger,  however,  brought  the  news  that  Spinola 
and  his  twenty-five  thousand  Spaniards  had  commenced 
hostilities  in  the  Palatinate,  and  were  marching  on 
Heidelberg. 

The  French  messenger  brought  a  letter  from  Louis  XIII. 
wherein  Friedrich's  preferred  alliance  was  answered  by 
the  assurance  of  the  French  monarch's  friendly  feelings 
towards  him  and  his  family,  but  that  his  Majesty  declared 
himself  unable  to  espouse  a  cause  so  closely  allied  to  that 
of  the  turbulent  French  Huguenots.  He  promised  to  send 


214  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

an  embassy  to  Austria  to  endeavour  to  effect  a  recon- 
ciliation between  the  Emperor  and  the  Bohemian  King. 
In  case  of  the  failure  of  this  negotiation  he  owned  himself 
bound  by  State  expediency  to  assist  the  Emperor  in  the 
war. 

King  Friedrich  of  Bohemia,  thus  forsaken  by  his 
brethren  of  the  Union  and  by  his  Hungarian  ally,  and 
thus  politely  refused  by  France,  stood  alone  before  the 
giant  powers  of  Europe ;  but  he  was  still  buoyed  up  by 
the  careless  confidence  of  youthful  inexperience,  and  he 
faced  calmly  a  situation  which  might  well  have  inspired 
terror  and  despair  in  any  man,  however  brave,  who  had 
realised  the  overwhelming  strength  of  the  forces  arraigned 
against  him.  Friedrich  relied  upon  his  army,  that  army 
which  he  had  never  hitherto  inspected,  that  unpaid,  ill- 
armed,  semi- mutinous,  half-starved  conglomeration  of 
soldiery,  captained  by  inexperienced  leaders. 

Thus  it  fell  out  that  on  the  day  after  the  merry- 
makings at  the  Star  Palace,  King  Friedrich  set  forth  to 
join  his  troops  in  Southern  Bohemia.  In  the  excitement 
and  exhilaration  of  enterprise,  applauded  by  the  woman 
he  loved  for  his  warlike  enthusiasm,  he  forgot  the  grim 
warning  of  that  vision  on  the  White  Mountain. 

The  menace  of  that  wild  sky  which  had  lowered  over 
the  Star  Palace  was  fulfilled,  and  day  after  day  rain  fell 
in  torrents  over  Prague.  The  Moldau,  swelled  to  angry, 
turbid  grandeur,  rushed,  a  frothy,  yellow  stream  beneath 
the  slate-like  uniformity  of  gloom  in  the  sullen  heavens. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  set  herself  to  wait.  In  her  gilded 
parlour  in  the  Hradcany  she  sat  hour  after  hour  before 
her  embroidery  frame,  she  wrote  many  loving  letters  to 
her  King,  she  read,  she  played  with  Jacky  the  monkey. 
Her  ladies  grew  weary  and  dispirited.  Dulness  is  hard 
to  bear  when  we  are  young;  but  the  Queen  remained 
resolute  in  her  cheerfulness  in  spite  of  physical  heaviness, 
for  she  was  again  enceinte. 

The  King  wrote  that  he  deemed  it  fortunate  he  had 
joined  his  army  so  promptly,  for  he  had  found  dissension 


THE  KING'S  VISION  215 

and  disorder  which,  of  course,  he  doubted  not  he  could  put 
right  immediately.  The  generals  themselves  were  dis- 
satisfied, but  chiefly  each  complained  of  the  undue  ad- 
vancement in  rank  which  had  been  accorded  to  his 
compeers.  Mansfeld,  still  sulking  in  Pilsen,  had  sent  a 
request  which  was  practically  an  insolent  demand  to  be 
named  Field-marshal.  Thurn  claimed  that  as  he  had  led 
the  army  for  many  months  he  could  not  be  called  by  a 
lesser  title  than  Mansfeld,  and  certainly  he  refused  to  be 
subordinate  to  Hohenlohe,  who  also  was  created  Field- 
marshal.  Solms  considered  that  his  dignity  forbade  him 
to  be  second  in  command  under  Mansfeld,  even  though 
the  latter,  in  point  of  fact,  being  mewed  up  in  Pilsen  took 
no  part  in  the  operations  of  the  main  army.  Old  Christian 
of  Anhalt  stormed  and  raged  and  quoted  at  length  every 
writer  on  military  tactics,  but  this  did  not  mend  matters. 
The  King  solved  the  question  with  the  greatest  ease.  He 
made  Mansfeld,  Thurn,  Schlick,  Hohenlohe,  Solms,  all 
General  Field-marshals,  and  gave  them  absolute  command 
over  their  troops,  of  course,  all  under  old  Christian  of 
Anhalt,  coinmander-in-chief. 

On  paper  the  Bohemian  army  was  indeed  formidable, 
and  counted  over  twenty-one  thousand  men ;  but  such 
small  accidents  as  the  death  of  several  hundred  soldiers 
from  disease,  or  the  casualties  arising  from  a  dozen 
skirmishes,  had  not  been  noted  for  many  months — and 
this  for  a  most  excellent  reason ;  for,  as  each  general  drew 
from  Prague  the  payment  per  head  for  his  soldiers,  it  was 
natural  that  the  absence,  by  death  or  desertion,  of  a 
soldier  was  a  substantial  pecuniary  gain  for  the  general. 
Also  every  commander  drew  double,  and  sometimes  triple 
and  quadruple  pay,  for  one  and  the  same  man  was  often 
general  of  an  army  corps,  colonel  of  a  regiment,  and  captain 
of  a  company. 

Old  Anhalt,  honest  and  incapable,  full  of  long  speeches 
on  the  theory  of  warfare,  thoroughly  versed  in  the  writings 
of  military  strategians,  was  helpless  before  this  embroglio ; 
and  when,  in  the  councils  of  war,  the  generals  quarreled 
and  abused  each  other,  the  old  Duke  only  added  to  the 


216  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

uproar  by  thundering  commands  for  obedience  and  order. 
Christel  of  Anhalt  and  several  of  the  younger  men,  seeing 
the  hopelessness  of  achieving  universal  order  in  this  unruly 
army,  had  laboured  only  to  perfect  their  own  regiments. 
And  the  sight  of  these  few  well  armed,  carefully  trained 
troops  again  inspired  the  King  with  confidence.  Like  the 
inexperienced  stage-manager  of  a  company  of  unprofes- 
sional playactors,  he  believed  that  the  mistakes  of  the 
rehearsal  would  vanish  automatically  when  the  real  drama 
was  played. 

Yet  he  wrote  to  implore  the  Queen  to  seek  a  surer 
refuge  than  Prague.  Warfare  was  a  strange,  capricious 
playmate,  and  he  would  fain  know  his  beloved  to  be  far 
off  from  any  possible  danger. 

Over  the  tedious  life  at  the  Hradcany  this  warning 
lowered  like  another  cloud.  What !  was  there  danger 
as  well  as  dulness  ?  the  ladies  cried,  but  Elizabeth  Stuart 
silenced  them  with  proud  words.  If  they  feared  danger 
let  them  begone;  she,  for  her  part,  would  remain  in 
Prague.  All  had  been  well  and  would  be  well. 

They  came  and  told  the  Queen  that  the  people  in  the 
city  were  beginning  to  murmur.  They  said  that  there 
was  anxiety,  nay,  fear  in  the  Hradcdny  Palace.  It  was 
whispered  that  the  Queen  was  preparing  for  flight.  Ah ! 
where  had  vanished  the  gay  doings,  the  masquerades,  and 
dancing,  they  asked  mockingly  ?  The  Queen  was  stricken 
with  terror ;  they  had  heard  it  from  the  lackeys ;  all  the 
town  knew  it. 

"  I !  stricken  with  terror  ?  God's  life  !  they  know  me 
ill !  "  cried  the  Queen ;  and  her  ladies  remembered  how 
it  had  been  said  that  the  dauntless  spirit  of  Elizabeth  of 
England  often  flashed  up  in  the  manner  of  her  god -child 
Elizabeth  Stuart. 

So  once  more  the  Hradcany  rang  with  the  merry  strains 
of  the  galliard  and  the  pavyn,  and,  albeit  there  were  few 
gallants  to  take  part  in  the  figures,  the  ladies  danced  to- 
gether and  gaiety  seemed  to  have  returned  to  the  Bohemian 
Court.  Of  course,  the  citizens  professed  themselves  dis- 
gusted at  such  levity,  when  battle  and  pillage  were  so 


THE  KING'S  VISION  217 

near,  but  unwittingly  they  were  reassured  thereby,  for  if 
the  Queen  was  thus  confident,  surely  there  could  be  no 
grave  cause  for  anxiety. 

Then  a  rumour  spread  in  Prague  that  Prince  Hal  had 
been  secretly  conveyed  away.  She  feared  for  her  child, 
then,  this  Queen  who  feared  naught  for  herself  ?  There  was 
tumult  in  the  city,  and  a  mob  surged  up  to  the  castle  gates. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  bid  the  guards  let  in  the  crowd.  She 
met  them  alone,  unguarded  save  by  her  bevy  of  ladies ; 
and  standing  beneath  the  portico  of  the  Emperor's  build- 
ing, she  lifted  the  baby  Rupert  in  her  arms  to  show  them 
that  she  had  not  feared  for  him.  Then  she  made  a 
Bohemian  gentleman  translate  these  words  :  "  The  Queen 
bids  you  be  of  good  cheer ;  for,  though  she  does  not  keep 
all  her  jewels  in  one  casket,  yet  she  must  have  every  con- 
fidence in  the  safety  of  that  treasury  where  she  trusts  this 
dear  jewel  of  hers." 

She  made  a  grand  picture  standing  there  beneath  the 
sculptured  stone  portico.  She  wore  no  hat ;  there  were 
pearls  and  diamonds  in  her  auburn  hair.  Her  gown,  as 
usual,  was  of  viol-brown  satin,  her  filmy  lace  ruff  framed 
her  delicate  proud  face  with  the  haunting  Stuart  smile  on 
the  fresh  lips  and  in  the  great  sombre  eyes. 

The  rabble  shouted  in  the  enthusiasm  which  her  proud, 
fearless  beauty  inspired,  shouted  until  the  baby  Rupert, 
affrighted,  raised  a  wailing  cry.  Then  the  Queen  kissed 
him,  and  laughing,  drew  back  into  the  Palace.  And  the 
rabble  returned  to  the  Old  Town  roaring  songs  of  loyalty. 

"Wait!"  said  the  Domherren,  gliding  among  them. 
"  She  has  never  crossed  the  Karls  Bridge  again.  There 
are  no  more  bathers  to  disgust  her ;  the  only  one  is  the 
Naked  Bather  on  the  Cross.  Him  she  will  not  pass ! 
Perchance  she  will  yet  be  driven  by  the  Imperial  troops 
over  the  bridge." 

Sullenly  the  populace  waited  through  the  dreary,  wet 
autumn  days.  For  the  Czech,  like  most  Slavs,  is  a  being 
at  once  fiery  and  apathetic.  He  can  be  stirred  to  a  very 
flame  of  effort,  be  delirious  with  enthusiasm,  and  then 
suddenly  he  will  sink  into  a  condition  of  hopeless  despair, 


218  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

a  state  of  mind  wherein  he  will  nurse  his  melancholy  and 
enjoy  it.  He  is  a  man  full  of  poetry,  idealistic  as  a  young 
girl,  fantastic,  enthusiastic — yet  sensuous,  ease-loving, 
fatalistic,  unstable,  capable  of  a  sudden  indifference  which 
he  masks  to  his  own  vision  by  his  poetic  melancholy,  ex- 
cusing his  changes  of  mood  by  haunting  suspicions  which 
he  has  not  the  energy  to  dispel  by  investigation. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  mistook  the  apathy  of  the  Praguers ; 
she  believed  their  indifference  to  be  calm  steadfastness, 
and  she  wrote  to  the  King  that  their  citizens  were  quiet, 
confident,  arid  loyal.  Nevertheless,  she  ordered  the  con- 
tinuance of  such  gaieties  as  were  possible  in  that  Court 
bereft  of  gallants,  for  she  deemed  that  hereby  the  people's 
sense  of  security  would  be  maintained. 

In  spite  of  these  seeming  gaieties  the  cloud  of  anxiety 
in  the  Hradcdny  Palace  grew  darker,  and,  though  her 
Majesty  professed  to  be  confident  in  the  Bohemian 
army's  ultimate  success,  the  relentless  advance  of  the 
Imperial  forces  into  Bohemia  made  even  her  brave  heart 
quail  with  apprehension.  True,  it  was  known  that  in 
the  Imperial  army  there  reigned  discord  between  the 
Generals  Maximilian  of  Bavaria  and  Bucquoi ;  also  that 
the  invaders  were  constantly  delayed  by  the  tardy  arrival 
of  the  provision  carts  from  Austria  and  Bavaria.  Further 
came  the  good  news  that  the  greater  number  of  the 
courtiers  who  had  followed  Maximilian  from  Bavaria, 
finding  the  prevalence  of  illness  and  the  discomfort  of 
camp-life  little  to  their  taste,  had  withdrawn  from  their 
Duke's  side  and  had  returned  to  Munich.  But  all  this, 
though  of  course  agreeable  hearing  for  the  Court  of 
Prague,  did  not  hinder  the  inexorable  forward  march  of 
the  allied  army.  Budweis  had  capitulated  with  astound- 
ing alacrity;  seven  thousand  men  were  marching  across  the 
Bohemian  Forest  from  Bavaria  to  reinforce  Maximilian ; 
three  thousand  fresh  troops  were  reported  to  be  on  the 
way  from  Wurzburg  to  join  the  invaders,  the  Elector  of 
Saxony  held  Lusatia ;  and  from  Poland  reinforcements 
were  hurrying  to  the  Imperialists.  Alas !  the  invading 
host  was  like  a  river  fed  by  a  hundred  streams,  gathering 


THE  KING'S  VISION  219 

volume  as  it  rolled  irresistibly  onward,  whereas  the 
Bohemian  army  was  a  stagnant  lake  into  which  no  fresh 
water  flowed. 

Then  came  tidings  that  Mansfeld  was  in  treasonable 
communication  with  Duke  Maximilian ;  it  was  whispered 
that  a  hundred  thousand  florins  had  changed  hands — 
and  that  Mansfeld  would  remain  neutral  in  Pilsen. 

Passionately  her  Majesty  cried  out  she  did  not  credit 
such  villainy,  but  the  brave  words  died  on  her  lips  when  she 
remembered  how  Mansfeld  had  always  appeared  to  her  a 
harbinger  of  ill-omen ;  already  on  that  night  in  Heidel- 
berg when  she  had  seen  him  slink  into  the  castle,  it  had 
seemed  to  her  that  there  was  some  menace  to  her  life's 
joy  in  this  misshapen,  sturdy,  sombre  condottiere. 

Mansfeld  explained  his  conduct  to  the  King.  He  pre- 
tended that  his  apparent  treason  was  but  a  ruse  to  gain 
time.  Fiercely  old  Anhalt  demanded  the  dismissal  of  the 
dishonest  adventurer  and  the  substitution  of  another 
leader  for  the  Pilsen  division;  yet  Mansfeld  succeeded  in 
convincing  Friedrich,  who  believed  that  personal  animosity 
prompted  Anhalt. 

Slowly  but  inexorably  the  Imperial  army  swept  on- 
wards. The  small  township  of  Pisek  was  taken,  neither 
man,  woman,  nor  child  was  spared ;  unutterable  horrors 
were  perpetrated ;  like  demons  the  mercenary  soldiers 
rioted  in  a  very  fury  of  blood-lust,  rejoicing  in  the 
ghastly  shambles  they  had  made  of  the  little  city.  The 
Cossacks,  as  the  people  called  the  Poles,  were  matched  in 
their  delirium  of  cruelty  by  the  raging  of  Bucquoi's  own 
men.  Steadily  the  Imperialists  advanced.  Then  towards 
the  middle  of  October  the  Bohemians  saw  their  country 
covered  by  a  vast  white  mantle.  An  early  fall  of  snow 
had  come  to  their  rescue.  Surely  the  invaders  would 
retreat ;  for,  cut  off  from  Bavaria  and  Austria  by  the  deep 
snowdrifts  in  the  hills,  they  would  not  risk  a  winter  of 
starvation.  For  an  instant  even  Maximilian  wavered. 
Bucquoi  counselled  retreat. 

One  night  of  sudden  ram,  and  the  snow  vanished, 
leaving  sodden  fields  and  dripping  swamps,  desolation 


220  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

and  added  misery  for  both  armies.  But  there  was 
nothing  now  to  hinder  the  invaders  from  their  career  of 
rapine  and  devastation,  nothing  save  the  Bohemian  army. 

There  had  been  many  skirmishes,  sometimes  won  by  the 
Imperialists,  sometimes  by  the  Bohemians,  but  no  actual 
battle  had  taken  place.  The  commanders  of  both  armies 
hung  back,  advanced,  avoided  each  other,  deployed,  in 
fact  amused  themselves  by  showing  off  what  experienced 
strategians  they  all  were  according  to  the  rules  of  theoretic 
warfare.  The  Bohemian  generals  believed  that  the  Im- 
perialists meant  to  continue  this  dilatory  game,  and  it 
was  only  towards  the  end  of  October  when  the  entire 
enemy,  raising  camp,  commenced  forced  marches  towards 
Prague,  that  Christian  of  Anhalt  and  King  Friedrich 
realised  Maximilian's  intention.  Promptly  the  Bohemians 
drew  together,  and  succeeded  in  blocking  the  invader's 
way.  A  decisive  battle  seemed  imminent.  The  Bohe- 
mians held  Rakonitz  and  a  long  rise  of  wooded  ground,  a 
splendid  position  offering  little  inducement  for  the 
Bavarians  to  attack.  Nevertheless  they  stormed  the  hill, 
but  were  easily  repulsed  and  fled  in  disorder. 

The  following  day  a  heavy  mist  prevented  either  army 
from  taking  action ;  but  on  the  30th  of  October,  the  mist 
having  cleared,  a  sharp  engagement  took  place,  and  as 
Christian  of  Anhalt  considered  his  possession  of  the  hill 
unimportant,  the  Bohemians  retreated  in  good  order  to- 
wards Prague,  and  took  up  a  commanding  position  on  the 
rise  of  a  wooded  slope. 

In  the  Imperial  camp  it  was  recognised  that  their 
enemy,  though  they  could  claim  no  victory,  had  at  least 
scored  a  strategic  success  by  succeeding  in  retreating  to 
so  strong  a  position.  Bucquoi  had  been  severely  wounded 
during  a  reconnoitring  expedition ;  also  the  provision- wag- 
gons from  the  south  not  having  arrived,  it  was  determined 
to  abandon  the  projected  immediate  advance  on  Prague. 

It  was  now  that  King  Friedrich  resolved  upon  return- 
ing to  the  Hradcany  Palace  for  a  few  days.  The  enemy 
seemed  paralysed  by  indecision ;  the  Bohemian  army  was 
in  a  dominant  position ;  all  was  well  and  would  be  well. 


THE  KING'S  VISION  221 

He  had  heard  that  Ambassadors  from  James  of  England 
had  arrived  in  Prague,  and — he  had  not  seen  Elizabeth 
Stuart  for  over  two  months. 

There  was  rejoicing  and  gaiety  in  the  Hradcany  Palace, 
the  King  brought  a  train  of  young  gallants  with  him,  and 
once  more  merriment  reigned  supreme.  Yet  her  Majesty 
regretted  the  absence  of  Ritter  Christel,  of  young  Thurn, 
and  Magnus  of  Wirtemberg. : 

"  They  could  not  leave  their  companies,  dearling,"  the 
King  said. 

"  Is  there  danger,  then  ? "  she  cried.  "  If  we  are  indeed 
threatened,  why  are  you  here,  dear  my  lord  ? " 

"  Nay,  there  is  no  risk,"  he  answered.  "  The  enemy 
has  been  repulsed.  Bucquoi  will  make  a  feint  of  attack, 
and  according  to  his  custom,  and  the  usage  of  warfare, 
he  will  then  retreat  into  a  well-ordered  camp  for  the 
winter.  By  the  spring  all  will  be  arranged  peacefully,  and 
we  will  summon  Master  De  Caus  to  make  our  gardens 
fair  !  Your  Christel,  Thurn,  and  the  rest  of  your  Majesty's 
mighty  army  of  devout  lovers  shall  return,  and  we  will 
have  a  merry  Court." 

They  were  standing  together  at  the  window  of  the 
Queen's  withdrawing-room,  overlooking  the  Stag  Park. 
The  swallows  flew  and  circled  in  the  still  air,  uttering 
their  sharp,  quick  notes.  Below  clustered  the  roofs  of 
palaces  and  burghers'  dwellings,  and  deep  in  the  valley 
the  Moldau  surged  in  sullen  grandeur.  The  sun  had 
won  through  the  clouds  for  an  hour,  and  had  gilded  the 
old  town  in  the  distance  to  the  likeness  of  a  magic  city. 

"It  seems  as  though  the  clouds  were  banished  from 
us,"  the  Queen  said  ;  "  you  have  brought  back  sunshine 
with  you,  Friedrich.  Ah  !  I  was  weary  of  the  o'er- 
darkened  days ! " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  our  time  of  anxiety  is  almost 
past — the  enemy  will  melt  away  before  our  army  like  the 
clouds  before  the  sunrays.  Kiss  me,  dear  heart ! "  he 
whispered.  "  Ah  !  life  is  full  of  happiness,  and  the  future 
is  like  a  radiant  dream  to  me ! " 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   WHITE   MOUNTAIN 

"  Dreimal  unselig  Volk,  dein  Leid 

Bewegt  kein  Herz  mehr,  dass  es  weine. 

Es  ist  ein  Leid  aus  alter  Zeit 

Und  gleicht  bemoostem  Leichensteine. 

Ruhmlos  zieht  durch  die  Welt  dein  Gram." 

IT  was  Saturday  night,  the  7th  of  November.  The 
moon  shone  white  and  wan  over  the  drenched  hill- 
land  where  lay  the  Bohemian  army.  A  sudden 
advance  of  the  Imperial  forces  had  made  Maximilian  of 
Bavaria's  intent  clear  to  old  Christian  of  Anhalt ;  he  had 
at  length  realised  that  the  Imperialists  were  bent  upon 
pushing  forward  to  Prague  itself.  By  forced  marches  the 
Bohemians  had  succeeded  in  outreaching  the  enemy.  By 
detours  over  rough,  marshy  ground,  and  through  dense 
fir-woods,  Duke  Christian  had  led  his  men,  outskirting 
the  Imperialists,  who  marched  on  the  main  road  direct 
towards  Prague.  Now  the  two  armies  faced  each  other, 
the  Bohemians  on  the  crest  of  the  White  Mountain,  the 
enemy  below  in  the  valley.  Duke  Christian  had  scored 
another  strategic  success,  for  not  only  had  the  Bohemians 
the  advantage  of  their  position  on  the  higher  ground,  but 
the  small  river,  the  Scharka,  with  its  surrounding  swamps, 
formed  a  natural  barrier  between  them  and  the  Imperi- 
alists. But  the  Bohemian  soldiers,  badly  fed,  ill  paid, 
meagrely  clothed,  insufficiently  armed,  were  worn  out  by 
the  fatigue  of  those  two  days  and  nights  of  strenuous 
advance,  and  on  this  Saturday  night  they  slept  like  dead 
men  beneath  the  moonlight.  The  camp-fires  burnt  low ; 
the  sentries  moved  wearily  on  their  beats ;  damp,  chill 
mists  rose  from  the  valley  where  fitfully  the  enemy's  fires 
twinkled. 

222 


THE  WHITE  MOUNTAIN  223 

Not  six  miles  away  the  King  made  merry  in  Prague — 
not  six  miles,  and  yet  the  city  was  absolutely  cut  off  from 
the  army.  A  messenger  whom  Duke  Christian  had  sent 
imploring  for  ammunition,  for  clothing  for  the  shivering 
soldiery,  and  for  fresh  rations,  had  returned  saying  that 
it  was  almost  impossible  to  win  through  the  disorder  of 
the  baggage  column  which  had  been  sent  on  to  seek 
safety  nearer  Prague.  The  city  gates  were  closed. 

The  night  wore  on.  That  abiding  terror,  the  expecta- 
tion of  a  sudden  onslaught  of  yelling  hordes  of  Cossacks, 
had  not  come  to  disturb  the  deathlike  stillness  of  the 
Bohemian  camp.  The  weary  outposts  saw  the  first  faint 
lightening  of  the  sky,  and  the  dawn  came  grey  and  cold, 
shrouded  in  a  thick  mist.  Perhaps  the  armies  were 
doomed  to  another  day  of  inaction,  bound  by  the  all- 
pervading  mist  as  by  a  giant,  paralysing  hand.  God 
alone  knew  what  the  men  had  suffered  before  they  had 
begun  their  desperate  march,  when  they  had  waited  not 
knowing  what  that  dense,  opaque  veil  hid  from  them,  not 
knowing  how  near  death  lurked  unseen. 

But  this  agony  was  spared  the  armies,  for  on  that 
Sunday  morning,  November  8th,  towards  nine  of  the 
clock,  a  light  breeze  sprang  up  and  the  mist  lifted. 
Immediately  there  was  a  stirring  in  the  camp  in  the 
valley.  A  squadron  of  cavalry  advanced  and  occupied  a 
hillock  at  the  foot  of  the  long  sweep  of  the  White  Moun- 
tain. Instantly  the  Bohemian  cannon  thundered  forth  a 
warning;  but  it  was  little  more  than  a  menace,  for  the 
shots  flew  harmless  over  the  enemy.  Destiny  willed  that 
Christian  should  make  no  further  use  of  this  strategic 
mistake  of  the  enemy.  The  cavalry  on  the  hillock  could 
easily  have  been  cut  off  from  the  Imperial  army,  their 
advance  having  been  too  rapid ;  yet  Christian,  though  he 
caused  his  cannon  to  play  upon  the  hillock,  did  not  seize 
the  opportunity  of  annihilating  the  squadron,  and  the 
Bavarian  General  Tilly  was  able  to  bring  up  troops  to 
stop  the  gap  between  the  advanced  guard  and  the  main 
army. 

The  Bohemians  were  posted  in  two  lines  reaching  from 


224  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

the  south-west  towards  the  wooded  park  of  the  Star  Palace 
on  the  north-east.  The  Hungarian  cavalry,  that  semi- 
barbarous  troop  upon  which  the  Bohemians  counted  to 
oppose  the  Cossacks l  of  the  Imperial  forces,  was  placed 
behind  the  left  wing  beyond  the  range  of  the  enemy's 
guns,  for  though  the  Hungarians  were  capable  of  carrying 
all  before  them  in  a  furious  charge,  they  were  so  gun-shy 
that  it  was  useless  to  order  them  to  stand  steadfast  if  the 
enemy's  cannon  played  on  them  while  they  waited  the 
signal  to  charge.  The  Bohemian  army  was  thus  drawn 
up  ready  for  battle. 

The  Bavarian  corps  now  advanced  to  cross  the  river 
Scharka,  over  which  there  was  but  one  narrow  bridge. 
They  were  impeded  by  the  deep  swamps,  and  a  certain 
disorder  reigned.  The  main  army  under  Bucquoi,  as 
usual,  hung  back,  and  thus  there  was  a  good  opportunity 
for  the  Bohemians  to  sweep  down  from  their  higher 
ground  and  divide  the  enemy's  forces. 

Old  Anhalt  and  Field-Marshal  Hohenlohe  stood  to- 
gether. They  both  held  large  parchment  sheets,  and  were 
deep  in  a  discussion  concerning  the  strategic  necessity 
of  this  or  that  tactical  movement,  which  they  illustrated 
by  means  of  the  well-drawn  plans  on  the  parchments. 
Count  Schlick  and  a  Colonel^von  Stubenvoll  rode  up  to 
the  field-marshals. 

"  Sir ! "  cried  Stubenvoll,  "  give  me  leave  to  charge 
with  my  cavalry  !  I  see  a  sure  way  to  victory !  If  we 
can  separate  the  Bavarian  army  corps  from  Bucquoi's 
men,  the  day  is  ours ! " 

Anhalt  hesitated.  He  glanced  at  the  diagrams  on  the 
parchment. 

"  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost  ! "  cried  Schlick  eagerly. 

"  Gentlemen,  your  plan  is  good.  On,  then,  and  cut  off 
the  enemy's  advanced  guard,"  said  Duke  Christian.  He 
was  doubtless  an  incompetent  commander,  but  he  was  a 
brave  man,  and  the  dashing  Moravian  Stubenvoll's  ardour 
appealed  to  him. 

"  Gently,  gently !  my  lord,"  cried  Hohenlohe.     "  I,  too, 

1  The  popular  name  for  the  Polish  riders. 


THE  WHITE  MOUNTAIN  225 

am  Field-Marshal  of  this  army.  I,  too,  have  a  word  to 
say !  You  are  for  ever  counselling  attack !  Attack  ! 
attack !  and  abandon  this  commanding  position !  If  this 
charge  is  made,  our  men  will  be  cut  off  from  us.  We 
shall  be  forced  to  advance  to  their  rescue,  then  we  shall 
be  in  the  valley.  See,  my  lord !  Here  on  paper  I  can 
show  you " 

"  There  is  no  time,  my  lord.  I  pray  you  give  me  the 
command  to  charge,"  urged  Stubenvoll  anxiously. 

"  Be  silent !  You  do  not  understand  tactics,"  growled 
Hohenlohe. 

"  Have  I  permission  ?  Duke  of  Anhalt !  Give  the 
word  !  Soon  it  will  be  too  late  ! "  cried  Stubenvoll  im- 
patiently. 

"  In  truth,  it  would  be  contrary  to  the  teaching  of 
Mendoza,  the  greatest  of  the  Spanish  military  writers. 
No,  do  not  charge ;  I  cannot  give  the  order,"  Anhalt 
answered  slowly.  Stubenvoll  turned  away. 

"  The  day  is  lost,"  he  said  sadly. 

The  Bohemian  guns  thundered  on  harmlessly,  filling 
the  air  with  smoke  and  stench.  The  battle  had  but  com- 
menced, and  it  was  noon. 

The  Imperial  advanced  guard  stormed  the  hill,  easily 
avoiding  the  ill-directed  fire  of  the  Bohemian  cannon. 

"  Too  fast,"  muttered  Anhalt ;  "  they  will  break  into  dis- 
order when  they  reach  the  summit !  Bucquoi  will  recall 
them ;  a  good  tactician  will  never  attack  under  such  un- 
favourable conditions.  This  is  only  a  feint."  He  glanced 
along  his  own  lines.  A  formidable  foe  certainly — serried 
rank  upon  serried  rank  of  pikemen,  arquebusiers,  cavalry. 

But  the  Imperialists  did  not  fall  into  disarray.  They 
reached  the  high  ground  and  promptly  ranged  into  line, 
while  behind  them  two  Walloon  regiments  advanced  and 
formed  up  in  good  order. 

Now  Solms'  Palatine  regiment,  along  with  Bubna's 
Czechish  cavalry,  charged.  Their  first  onslaught  was 
successful;  the  Imperial  advanced  guard,  spent  by  the 
rapid  ascent  of  the  steep  slope,  fell  back  in  some  confusion, 


226  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

and  for  an  instant  the  Walloons  also  wavered.  Without 
hesitation  four  German  squadrons,  under  General  Tiefen- 
bach,  rode  from  the  valley  to  reinforce  the  leading  troops. 
On  the  Bohemian  side  Bubna's  Czechs  made  a  second 
charge,  which  was  quickly  repulsed.  Anhalt  immediately 
commanded  the  Thurn  infantry  to  attack.  This  regiment, 
some  thirteen  hundred  strong,  and  composed  of  the  veterans 
of  the  Bohemian  forces,  was  regarded  as  the  pattern  for  the 
entire  army.  They  advanced  steadily  to  within  two  hun- 
dred paces  of  the  enemy,  then,  like  a  gust  of  wind  rippling 
through  a  wheat-field,  sudden  panic  ran  from  line  to  line 
and  they  halted — one  man  turned — another — fifteen — a 
hundred.  Throwing  away  their  muskets  they  fled  wildly, 
knocking  down  the  soldiers  behind  them.  A  few  fired 
aimlessly  in  the  air,  or  over  their  shoulders  ;  then,  caught 
by  the  contagion  of  fear,  the  whole  regiment  joined  the 
stream  of  fugitives.  The  only  men  killed  were  those 
struck  by  stray  bullets  or  trampled  down  by  their  own 
comrades.  The  enemy  had  remained  immovable. 

Seeing  his  most  trusted  warriors  flying  without  strik- 
ing a  blow,  Anhalt  stood  aghast,  hardly  believing  the 
evidence  of  his  own  eyes.  The  whole  left  wing  of  the 
Bohemian  army  was  in  confusion,  and  the  battlefield 
seemed  peopled  with  a  mass  of  frantic,  struggling,  flying 
figures.  Anhalt's  own  regiment,  six  companies  of  cavalry, 
remained  intact.  He  commanded  them  to  charge,  and 
they  commenced  their  advance  without  hesitation ;  but 
wheeling  round  suddenly,  they  broke  line,  fell  into  disorder, 
and  fled  without  attacking  the  enemy.  Anhalt  galloped 
after  some  of  the  deserters :  "  Back,  you  cowards ! "  he 
cried  furiously.  "  Back !  or  I  shoot  you  like  the  mad 
dogs  which  you  are  ! "  But  the  fugitives  paid  no  heed, 
each  man  seemed  only  bent  upon  outstripping  his  com- 
rades in  the  race  from  the  battlefield. 

Bubna's  cavalry  had  been  thrown  into  confusion  by  the 
flight  of  Thurn's  infantry.  Desperately  the  officers  en- 
deavoured to  reform  the  broken  lines,  but  the  rearing  and 
struggling  horses  were  beyond  their  terror-stricken  riders' 
control.  A  few  hundred  soldiers  obeyed  the  command  to 


THE  WHITE  MOUNTAIN  227 

charge,  but  finding  themselves  immediately  involved  in 
the  stampede  of  the  Anhalt  regiment  they,  too,  turned  and 
fled.  In  their  rush  they  galloped  into  two  companies  of 
the  King's  Guard  and  a  troop  of  Bohemian  cavalry.  The 
former  were  thrown  into  confusion  and  dispersed ;  while 
the  latter,  infected  by  the  panic,  joined  the  headlong 
race  off  the  battlefield. 

The  infantry  of  the  second  line,  under  young  Thurn, 
flung  themselves  into  the  melde,  but  were  routed  with 
severe  loss.  Hohenlohe's  and  Kaplir's  regiments  were 
ordered  to  advance.  During  several  months  these  troops 
had  shown  signs  of  insubordination,  even  of  open  mutiny. 
They  now  made  a  half-hearted  movement  forward,  then, 
throwing  their  weapons  in  the  air,  they  fled  without  firing 
a  shot.  The  left  wing  of  the  Protestant  army  was  de- 
stroyed. 

The  battle  had  lasted  but  one  half-hour,  and  it  seemed 
already  lost  to  the  Bohemians.  The  enemy  was  in  full 
pursuit  of  the  fugitives,  and  the  dastards  were  reaping 
the  reward  of  their  cowardice,  for  the  Imperialists  mas- 
sacred them  like  a  herd  of  defenceless  sheep. 

Then  the  tide  turned.  Young  Christian  of  Anhalt,  who 
had  stood  waiting  for  the  command  to  advance,  could  bear 
the  inaction  of  obedience  no  longer,  and  at  the  head  of  his 
six  hundred  mounted  arquebusiers  he  charged  the  pursuers 
impetuously.  The  Imperial  bugles  rang  out,  the  pursuers 
and  as  many  troops  as  could  be  recalled  from  the  mele'e, 
formed  up  into  line  and  faced  Christel's  men,  who,  after 
their  charge,  had  quickly  returned  and  had  also  fallen  into 
line.  They  opened  a  steady  fire  upon  the  Imperialists, 
volley  after  volley,  with  such  good  effect  that  the  enemy 
retreated,  leaving  a  ghastly  row  of  writhing  wounded  and 
of  dead  men  to  testify  to  the  Bohemians'  prowess.  A  cry 
went  up  :  "  Victory  !  The  Papists  run  1 " 

A  detachment  of  Spanish  Horse  thundered  up  the  hill 
and  attacked  Christel's  arquebusiers,  but  they  were  re- 
pulsed, and,  torrent-like,  the  arquebusiers  burst  through 
the  wavering  Spaniards  and  fell  upon  the  left  infantry 
square  of  the  Imperial  first  line.  It  was  a  furious  hand- 


228  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

to-hand  combat.  The  Bohemians,  despite  their  in- 
ferior numbers,  excited  to  dauntless  valour  by  Chris- 
tel's  example,  drove  back  the  Imperial  infantry,  broke 
through  their  ranks,  scattered  them,  and  put  them  to 
flight.  Bohemian  reinforcements  poured  down  to  Christel's 
aid,  and  at  this  moment  the  Hungarians  appeared  on  the 
hill's  crest  ready  to  charge.  The  whole  Imperial  division 
raised  a  cry  that  all  was  lost,  and  in  an  instant  they  were 
flying  as  wildly  as  the  Bohemians  had  run  a  few  minutes 
before. 

The  shouting  of  the  Bohemian  army :  "  Victory ! 
Victory ! "  added  to  the  terrible  clamour  of  the  battle  ; 
the  squeals  of  the  wounded  horses ;  the  thick  sobs  of  the 
dying,  choking  out  their  last  breath  through  the  bloody 
foam  at  their  stiffening  lips ;  the  groans  of  the  wounded, 
the  clash  of  arms,  the  rumble  of  cannon,  and  the  cracks  of 
the  pistol  shots. 

Suddenly,  dominating  all  this  horror  of  sound,  came 
the  deafening  howl  of  the  Cossacks  who  swept  into  the 
melee,  trampling  the  wounded,  spurning  the  dead,  like  a 
horde  let  loose  from  hell  itself.  The  Hungarians  on  the 
hill,  without  waiting  for  the  Cossacks  to  get  up  to  them, 
turned  and  fled,  the  enemy  upon  their  heels.  The  Cos- 
sacks caught  up,  not  only  the  Hungarians,  but  also  the 
fugitive  Kaplir  infantry,  and  mowed  them  down  as  though 
they  had  been  blades  of  grass  reaped  by  a  scythe. 

Christel  gathered  his  troopers  together  and  attacked 
again  and  again.  Wherever  the  fight  was  thickest  the 
Imperialists  saw  that  slight  figure  on  the  chestnut  charger, 
that  boyish  face  with  the  radiant  blue  eyes  which  held 
a  glint  of  steel  despite  their  almost  childlike  candour; 
wherever  the  danger  was  fiercest  they  saw  that  glittering 
helmet  with  the  azure  ribbon  which  Elizabeth  Stuart  had 
given  to  her  Hitter  Christel  six  years  since  at  the  Heidel- 
berg tourney.  Already  his  left  arm  hung  limp  and  use- 
less at  his  side,  and  he  guided  his  horse  with  the  pressure 
of  his  knees ;  already  his  breastplate  was  smeared  with  his 
blood,  and  the  blue  scarf  across  it  was  stained  and  torn. 
His  horse,  too,  was  bleeding  from  a  dozen  gashes,  but 


THE  WHITE  MOUNTAIN  229 

Christel's  voice  fell  sweetly  on  the  brave  beast's  hearing. 
Tenderly,  in  the  midst  of  this  horror,  he  spoke :  "  Come 
friend,  courage  !  On  !  "  and  the  horse  gave  that  answer 
which  is  grander  than  the  speech  of  man;  the  answer 
which  is  an  animal's  devotion  and  obedience  to  him  he 
loves. 

"  On  !  comrades  !  Men  of  Anhalt,  on  !  For  the  honour 
of  Bohemia  !  "  Christel  called,  and  the  Imperialists  around 
him,  six  men  to  each  one  of  his,  thundered  back  the 
war-cry  of  the  Catholic  forces  :  "  Maria !  Maria !  "  Mary, 
the  blessed  Mother  of  God,  they  called ;  and,  in  truth, 
Christel's  battle-cry  was  also  an  invocation  to  the  saint 
his  soul  adored,  for  when  he  cried,  "  On !  for  the  honour 
of  Bohemia ! "  sure  he  meant  "  For  the  honour  of  Eliza- 
beth Stuart."  Perchance  the  Mother  of  God  smiled 
down  from  heaven  on  him,  knowing  that  a  man  who 
loves  a  woman  thus  purely,  gives  a  perfect  homage  to 
the  Queen  of  all  womanhood. 

Desperately  he  fought,  and  faithfully  his  men  followed 
him.  Then  there  came  a  puff  of  smoke  close  to  him, 
and  he  made  a  despairing  gesture  with  his  dripping 
sword.  Once  more,  but  faintly,  he  cried  :  "  On — on — 
for  the  honour — "  and  swayed  in  his  saddle.  An  arque- 
busier  tried  to  hold  him  up,  but  he  sank  limply  back- 
wards. With  a  smile,  which  told  how  his  thoughts  were 
far  from  that  scene  of  carnage,  his  head  fell  back,  and, 
his  lips  still  whispering  weakly :  "  For — Bohemia — and 
— the — Queen — -"  he  fell  to  the  bloodstained  earth. 

A  flood  of  fresh  troops — Walloons,  Spaniards,  Aus- 
trians,  Neapolitans,  Bavarians — charged  impetuously,  and 
Christel's  men  were  trampled  under.  The  battle  was 
lost,  as  far  as  the  left  Bohemian  wing  and  the  centre 
were  concerned.  There  still  remained  a  portion  of  the 
right  wing,  which  had  only  been  desultorily  engaged  by 
the  Bavarian  division  of  the  Imperial  army.  The  White 
Mountain  rose  steeply  on  the  north-west,  and  here  the 
Bohemian  cannon  had  effectually  hindered  the  enemy's 
advance ;  but  now  the  Bavarians,  having  succeeded  in 
scaling  the  hill,  attacked  the  right  wing,  while  the 


230  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Walloons  and  Spaniards  from  the  eastward  threatened 
the  left  division  of  the  Bohemian  centre.  Here  the 
Bohemians  faced  the  Imperialists  coolly,  and  both  ranks 
of  combatants  formed  up  in  good  order.  The  Bohemians 
attacked  in  the  ancient  mode  of  the  caracole,  which 
means  that  they  advanced  at  a  hand-gallop,  and,  riding 
along  the  enemy's  foremost  rank,  discharged  their  pistols 
at  close  range.  It  was  the  usual  attacking  method  of 
the  warfare  of  a  hundred  years  earlier,  but  it  was  useless 
before  the  weapons  of  the  day.  Many  caracolers  were 
shot  down  by  the  Imperialists'  well-directed  fire,  a  number 
were  unhorsed  and  taken  prisoner,  while  the  rest  galloped 
away  in  confusion. 

The  remaining  Hungarians  posted  near  the  wall  of 
the  Star  Palace,  seeing  the  Bohemian  right  wing  thus 
in  disorder,  left  the  field  without  striking  a  blow.  Old 
Christian  of  Anhalt  and  sixteen  gentlemen  found  them- 
selves cut  off  by  the  stream  of  fugitives  from  the  few 
Bohemian  regiments  which  stood  steadfast  near  the 
wall  of  the  Star  Palace  Park,  while  the  enemy  drew 
dangerously  near.  Duke  Christian  turned  his  horse 
towards  Prague. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  brokenly,  "  the  day  is  lost  ! 
Let  us  ride  to  guard  the  King.  God  in  heaven!  we 
must  bid  him  escape  before  it  is  too  late."  With  bowed 
head  the  aged  commander  rode  off  the  battlefield. 

The  day  was  indeed  lost,  but  there  still  remained  a 
company  of  gallant  men  awaiting  death  in  the  Star 
Palace.  Here,  where  but  three  months  since  Elizabeth 
Stuart  had  danced  the  galliard,  and,  where  the  tapestries 
still  decked  the  walls  beneath  the  delicate  designs  of  the 
Renaissance  frieze,  five  hundred  gentlemen  of  the  King's 
Guard  under  Duke  William  of  Weimar  were  preparing 
to  sell  their  lives  dearly.  King  Friedrich's  own  banner 
was  in  their  keeping,  and  no  one  should  say  that  they 
had  failed  in  their  sacred  trust.  In  the  narrow  space 
between  the  outer  wall  and  the  pavilion  they  planted  the 
great  yellow  velvet  standard  emblazoned  with  that  green 
cross  which  symbolised  hope  for  the  Protestant  cause. 


THE  WHITE  MOUNTAIN  231 

Gathering  round  their  commander,  they  awaited  the 
Imperialists'  onslaught.  Brave  men  they  were,  for  the 
most  part  young  Bohemian  nobles  who  had  made  merry 
in  the  Star  Palace  here  when  Elizabeth  Stuart  had 
held  her  Court  of  laughter  and  gaiety,  and  here  they 
were  to  die. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  Guard  ! "  cried  William  of  Weimar, 
"  I  would  we  had  a  cup  of  sack  wherein  to  pledge  her 
Majesty  this  day  !  We  have  no  wine,  so  let  us  salute 
the  Queen  with  our  swords — we  shall  die  the  easier  for 
having  paid  her  our  last  homage  ! "  With  a  whirr  of 
steel  the  swords  flashed  from  the  scabbards. 

"  Gentlemen  ! "  cried  the  Prince  again,  "  the  Queen  !  " 
and  five  hundred  men  stood  motionless  at  the  salute  as 
light-hearted,  as  debonnair  and  smiling,  as  though  they 
had  stood  before  Elizabeth  Stuart,  queen  of  revelry  at 
some  gay  tourney. 

"  To  your  posts ! "  called  Duke  William,  and  they 
took  their  appointed  places  around  the  walls.  They 
saw  how  the  enemy  overwhelmed  the  few  regiments 
beyond  in  the  park.  The  stand  was  feeble ;  but  who 
could  blame  a  handful  of  troops  if  they  quailed  before 
the  attack  of  ten  thousand  better  armed  adversaries  ? 
Yet  until  then  a  little  flame  of  hope  had  flickered  in 
each  heart  in  the  Star  Palace. 

Furiously  the  Neapolitans  stormed  the  outer  wall ;  in 
vain  the  troopers  of  the  King's  Guard  behind  the  walls 
shot  them  down  with  unerring  aim,  for  each  dead  man 
three  living  avengers  sprang  forward.  They  scaled  the 
walls,  the  first  comers  to  instant  death ;  but  alas !  how 
can  five  hundred  men  resist  many  thousands  ? 

"  Into  the  palace  !  Save  the  King's  standard  !  "  roared 
Duke  William.  Frantically  they  rushed  back  with  the 
yellow  flag  held  high.  They  were  in  the  palace — they 
managed  to  dash  the  heavy  oaken  door  shut — scarce 
two  hundred  of  them ;  the  rest  were  dead,  wounded,  or 
shut  out. 

There  came  a  lull  in  the  deafening  noise. 

"  Are  they  retreating  ? "  queried  Duke  William,  as  he 


232  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

leaned  breathless  against  the  tapestries  of  the  centre  hall. 
He  was  bleeding  from  brow  and  shoulder. 

"They  are  moving  the  dead  from  before  the  door; 
they  lie  there  ten  deep — a  pretty  rampart ! "  some  one 
said.  It  was  well  spoken,  for  now  the  shouts  redoubled, 
and  there  came  a  storm  of  clanking  blows,  and  with  a 
mighty  crash  the  door  fell  in. 

"  On  to  meet  them !  We  will  die  like  gentlemen, 
not  like  rats  in  a  blocked  water-pipe ! "  cried  Duke 
William. 

With  a  shout  which  re-echoed  through  the  vaulted 
halls  of  the  palace — a  different  music,  God  knows !  to 
the  galliard's  lilt  which  had  been  the  last  sound  to  ring 
through  the  Star  Palace — the  King's  Guard  charged. 

The  Neapolitans,  mad  with  rage  at  the  death  of  their 
comrades,  fell  upon  them  fiercely.  Man  after  man  was 
cut  down ;  the  floor  was  slippery  with  blood,  and  both 
Bohemians  and  Neapolitans,  losing  their  footing,  fell 
rolling  and  fighting  like  animals  in  that  slime  of  gore. 
A  steady  stream  of  Imperialists,  Neapolitans,  and 
Spaniards  poured  into  the  palace  and  finished  the 
work  of  carnage. 

Still  the  King's  standard  was  held  aloft.  As  one  man 
fell,  another  grasped  it  and  held  it  high.  Of  a  sudden 
a  bugle  shrilled  through  the  Star  Palace,  and  a  well- 
ordered  troop  of  Bavarians  shouldered  their  way  into 
the  hall. 

"  Hold !  hi  the  Emperor's  name !  Maximilian  of 
Bavaria  gives  quarter  to  gallant  men  ! " 

The  Neapolitans  and  Spaniards  sullenly  withdrew  from 
the  fray. 

"  We  ask  no  quarter,  sir ! "  said  William  of  Weimar 
proudly. 

"  We  are  not  butchers,  gentlemen,"  returned  the 
Bavarian  captain.  "  You  are  ten  wounded  men  against 
many  thousands.  In  all  honour  I  declare  you  to  be  my 
prisoners  of  war  ! " 

It  was  useless — alas  !  who  could  fight  against  such 
odds  ?  With  a  sob  Duke  William  staggered  back. 


THE  WHITE  MOUNTAIN  233 

"  The  King's  banner  is  captured,"  he  said,  and  fell 
senseless  at  the  Bavarian's  feet. 

Thus  ended  the  battle  of  the  White  Mountain — a 
name  of  bitter  humiliation  to  Bohemia.  And  yet, 
methinks,  the  fame  of  the  valour  of  a  few  brave  men 
should  live  for  ever,  shining  like  a  star  in  the  darkness 
of  shame,  cowardice,  and  defeat  of  that  day  of  doom. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

FLIGHT 

KING  FRIEDRICH  of  Bohemia  sat  at  the  State 
Banquet  in  the  Hall  of  Homage.  Through  the 
tall  diamond-paned  windows  the  grey  light  of 
the  autumn  day  fell  dimly,  but  many  flambeaux  in  the 
heavy  silver  wall-sconces  flared  brightly,  and  on  the  long 
banqueting-board  a  hundred  candles  lit  the  stone  hall  to 
a  warm  glow,  and  flashed  on  the  glittering  jewels,  on  the 
sheen  of  silks  and  satins  of  the  ladies'  dresses,  on  the  rich 
hues  of  the  gallants'  tunics,  ablaze,  too,  with  the  jewelled 
insignia  of  high  orders.  The  yellow  stone  walls  of  the 
great  hall,  mellowed  by  the  wise  hand  of  time,  made  an 
harmonious  background  for  the  picture  of  the  gaily  clad 
throng.  It  was  a  scene  of  stately  splendour,  for  Friedrich 
had  wished  to  show  James  of  England's  Ambassadors 
that  a  King  of  Bohemia  could  vie  in  magnificence  with 
Whitehall,  nay,  with  the  Louvre  itself;  and  he  had 
prayed  his  courtiers  to  don  their  finest  doublets,  and  the 
ladies  to  array  themselves  in  their  richest  rebatoes,  far- 
dingales,  and  gowns. 

The  King  sat  at  the  centre  of  the  long  table,  her 
Majesty  on  his  right,  and  the  two  English  Ambassadors, 
one  at  his  left  and  the  other  on  her  Majesty's  right. 
Then  followed  in  their  rank  the  highest  in  the  land — my 
Lord  of  Michaelowitz,  my  Lord  Count  of  Thurn,  the  Count 
of  Lobkowitz,  and  other  Bohemian  gentlemen ;  but  a  good 
number  were  with  the  army,  and  though  laughter  and 
music  abounded,  Elizabeth  Stuart  sighed  when  she  missed 
many  familiar  faces.  Count  Schomberg  was  not  there. 
He  had  craved  her  Majesty's  leave  to  volunteer  for  a  few 
months'  service  with  the  army,  and  she  had  bidden  him 
do  his  will,  deeming  that  perhaps  the  excitement  of 


234 


FLIGHT  235 

camp-life  might  turn  his  thoughts  from  their  sadness,  for 
Schomberg  had  grown  old,  grey,  and  broken  since  Mistress 
Anne's  death,  and  the  years  had  but  served  to  confirm  his 
sorrow  into  settled  melancholy.  He  had  refused  high 
military  rank,  and  had  taken  service  in  one  of  the  King's 
Companies. 

The  Queen  looked  down  the  long  table.  Yes,  she 
missed  Christel's  boyish  face ;  she  felt  a  pang  when  she 
did  not  see  old  Schlick's  mournful  brown  eyes  and 
pointed  beard  a  la  mode  du  feu  Roi  Henri  IV.,  and  seeing 
Bernard  Thurn  was  not  there  she  grieved  an  instant,  for 
he  had  grown  to  be  a  true  friend  during  this  last  year  in 
Bohemia.  Humorously  she  reflected  that  whoever  was 
missing  from  her  surroundings  Scultetus  was  never 
absent.  She  glanced  at  his  sallow  face;  she  had  never 
liked  the  Calvinist  since  that  day  long  ago  when  he 
had  interrupted  her  moonlight  reverie  on  the  terrace  at 
Heidelberg.  Next  to  the  preacher  was  seated  Camerarius 
the  secretary,  a  punctilious,  tiresome  personage  whom  she 
had  vowed  smelled  of  ink !  Beside  them  was  Doctor 
Jansenius,  a  famed  scholar,  who  had  helped  to  draw  up 
the  manifestoes  concerning  the  legal  and  historical  rights 
of  the  Bohemians  to  choose  their  King,  which  Friedrich 
had  caused  to  be  printed  and  distributed  over  Europe. 
Elizabeth  Stuart  sighed — ah !  well,  that  form  of  weari- 
ness was  nearly  over;  Friedrich  was  secure  enough  in 
Bohemia ;  and  it  was  the  opinion  of  the  best  authorities 
on  warfare  that  Maximilian  of  Bavaria  and  Bucquoi  would 
soon  retreat  into  a  winter  camp  without  giving  battle, 
and  by  the  spring  everything  would  have  been  quietly 
settled  by  the  diplomatists. 

The  King  rose,  and  all  the  assembly  stood  respect- 
fully. "  My  honoured  guests,"  he  said,  "  I  pray  you  drink 
to  long  life  and  prosperity  to  my  revered  father,  King 
James  of  England !  " 

As  he  spoke  a  loud  booming  shook  the  windows  of 
the  Hall  of  Homage.  Every  one  paused  with  their  glasses 
half-way  to  their  lips,  and  each  gazed  at  his  neighbour  in 
dismay.  Could  it  be  that  Prague  was  attacked  ? 


236  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Sir  Edward  Conway !  Sir  Richard  Western ! "  cried 
Friedrich,  "  I  drink  to  you,  and  my  cannon  proclaims 
that  in  honouring  you  I  pay  a  regal  tribute  to  your 
sovereign,  my  royal  father,  King  James ! "  He  bowed  to 
the  Ambassadors.  The  toast  was  drunk  solemnly  and 
the  banquet  proceeded,  perhaps  all  the  more  gaily  for 
the  relief  which  the  guests  felt.  That  sudden  roar  of 
cannon  had  struck  terror  to  their  hearts,  but  no  one 
owned  even  to  themselves  how  fearful  a  thought  had 
risen  in  their  minds. 

"  Sir  Richard,"  said  the  Queen,  "  I  doubt  not  you  feared 
the  enemy  was  upon  us  ?  Fie !  sir,  your  cheek  is  still 
white  and  your  hand  trembles." 

"  Nay,  madame,"  the  Ambassador  answered,  "  I  was 
but  startled  by  the  tintamarre.  Seeing  your  Highness  so 
calm  and  secure,  who  could  harbour  anxiety  ?  "  Elizabeth 
glanced  at  him. 

"  I  see,  sir,  that  you,  too,  are  under  orders  to  stint  me 
of  my  title  as  Queen  ! "  She  laughed.  "  Well,  well,  it 
cannot  be  long  ere  all  the  world  will  own  my  dear  lord 
to  be  a  King.  Yet,  on  rny  life,  I  am  little  pleased  with 
mine  old  friend  Sir  Henry  Wotton.  What  think  you  of 
the  absurdity  of  addressing  King  Friedrich  as  '  my 
honoured  Prince  the  crowned  Elector '  ?  Yet  so  are 
superscribed  Wotton's  letters  out  of  Vienna ! " 

"  Ah  !  madame,  we  have  a  hard  task — love  is  divorced 
from  his  liege  mistress,  Duty,  in  this  matter,"  returned 
Weston  cautiously. 

"  In  other  words,  you  love  us  well  but  must  obey  my 
father  ? "  she  said  lightly.  "  Tut,  sir,  old  Wotton  sends 
me  graceful  verses  wherein  he  calls  me  Queen,  and  refuses 
me  my  right  in  letters,  and,  as  I  hear,  in  speech  !  " 

"  As  a  poet  Sir  Henry  Wotton  proclaims  your  Highness 
Queen ;  as  a  statesman — "  began  Weston. 

<;  Ah  !  I  am  weary  of  it ;  quibbles  and  words ! "  she 
broke  in  quickly.  "  My  beloved  lord  is  King,  and  he  has 
crowned  me  Queen,  that's  the  fact ;  and  calling  us  crowned 
Electors  is  a  mockery  of  logic." 

"  Pardon  us,  madame,  we  are  but  poor  envoys  bound 


FLIGHT  237 

to  obey  him  who  has  sent  us,"  Weston  answered 
humbly. 

They  fell  to  talking  of  other  matters — of  Sir  Francis 
Bacon's  measures  to  promote  the  manufacture  of  gold 
and  silver  thread  in  England,  which  Elizabeth  declared 
to  be  of  profound  importance  to  every  lady  who  wore 
embroidered  velvets;  of  the  Spanish  match  for  the 
Prince  of  Wales;  how  Weston  had  heard  in  Brussels, 
always  ringing  with  Spanish  court  bruits,  that  the  fifteen- 
year-old  Prince  Philip  of  Asturias  would  actually  com- 
mence his  married  life  with  the  French  Princess  Isabel 
this  November ;  how  Calderon,  the  writer,  still  languished 
in  a  Spanish  dungeon ;  of  how  Louis  XIII.  of  France  and 
his  mother,  Marie  de  Medici,  were  quarreling  as  usual. 
In  fact  all  the  trivial  light  talk  which  makes  life  a  weari- 
ness at  Court. 

"  Surely  the  salutes  should  be  over  by  now  ?  "  in- 
terrupted Elizabeth  Stuart ;  "  they  sound  distant  and 
faint,  and  yet  there  is  a  constant  rumbling."  She  listened  ; 
but  the  laughter  and  music  were  loud  around  the  banquet- 
board,  and  for  the  moment  it  seemed  as  though  the 
rumbling  sound  had  ceased.  The  King  was  deep  in  talk 
with  Sir  Edward  Conway,  and  he  paid  no  heed  to  Elizabeth 
when  she  asked  why  the  salutes  had  been  so  prolonged. 

"Yes,  I  have  splendid  schemes  for  the  garden  here; 
and  I  have  arranged  for  several  painters  to  journey  to 
Prague.  I  wish  Rubens  to  paint  the  story  of  Protes- 
tantism with  her  Majesty  and  myself  as  the  central 
figures,"  he  was  saying,  as  a  man  bent  and  whispered  in 
his  ear.  "  How  now,  sir  ?  I  cannot  hear — speak  out, 
man  ! "  the  King  cried  impatiently.  The  intruder  was  a 
captain  of  one  of  his  Majesty's  Companies  on  guard  at  the 
Hradcany  Palace. 

"  Your  Majesty,"  said  the  man  in  a  low  voice,  "  a  peasant 
has  just  come  in  from  the  village  of  Oberlibotz.  He  says 
that  your  Majesty's  horse  upon  the  outflanks  of  the  enemy 
do  skirmish.  There  hath  been  the  sound  of  continuous 
firing  this  last  hour."  The  King  paled. 

"  Is  it  more  than  a  skirmish  ? "  he  said  anxiously. 


238  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Nay,  sire,  the  peasant  could  not  tell  me ;  but  he 
said " 

"  What  is  amiss  ?  "  broke  in  Elizabeth  Stuart.  "  Fried- 
rich,  why  is  your  cheek  so  pale  ?  Are  there  evil  tidings  ? " 
On  his  arm  she  laid  her  hand,  that  nervous,  Stuart  hand, 
with  the  long,  pointed,  sensitive  fingers  that  seemed  so 
delicate  that  one  thought  they  must  tremble;  and  yet  they 
were  steady,  even  strong. 

"  What  has  occurred  ?  Tell  me  ! "  she  added,  turning 
to  the  captain  as  Friedrich  hesitated. 

"  There  is  a  skirmishing  on  the  White  Mountain, 
madame,"  he  answered,  "  and  the  cannon  plays ! " 

"  Skirmishing  ? "  she  said  calmly.  "  Sir,  you  have  all 
cried  so  often  that  the  wolf  is  devouring  the  sheep,  that 
I  do  not  credit  it.  Raise  the  banquet,  my  lord;  'tis  likely 
of  no  account,  but  you  had  best  ride  out  and  see.  Do  not 
tell  our  guests;  there  need  be  no  foolish  noise  of  dismay." 
The  King  rose. 

"  Gentlemen ! "  he  called,  "  the  feast  is  ended;  let  us  pro- 
ceed to  the  German  Hall."  A  silence  fell  on  the  company  for 
an  instant — there  was  no  sound  of  booming  cannon  without. 
The  King  offered  his  hand  to  her  Majesty  and  paced  down 
the  long  Hall  of  Homage.  Once  more  the  storm  of  voices 
of  a  large  assembly  echoed  through  the  vaulted  arches, 
and  the  musicians  struck  up  a  merry  melody.  The  King 
and  Queen  had  nearly  reached  the  door,  when  a  loud  voice 
was  heard  without,  and  Duke  Christian  of  Anhalt  stood  on 
the  threshold.  His  grey  hair  was  matted  with  sweat,  his 
eyes  were  wild  and  bloodshot,  his  breastplate  was  tarnished, 
and  he  was  bespattered  from  head  to  foot  with  a  horrible 
mire  red  with  blood. 

"  The  day  is  lost,  sire !  "  he  cried  hoarsely.  "  The  enemy 
will  be  on  us  in  an  hour !  Fly  while  there  is  time  ! "  He 
swayed  a  little  and  leaned  against  the  doorpost. 

"  Lost ! — through  cowardice  !  "  he  groaned,  and  passed 
a  shaking  hand  across  his  brow. 

"  Has  there  been  a  battle,  then  ? "  asked  Friedrich 
stupidly.  Old  Anhalt  nodded. 

"  Lost ! "  he  muttered,  with  his  hand  covering  his  eyes. 


FLIGHT  239 

"  Give  wine  to  my  Lord  of  Anhalt ! "  commanded 
Elizabeth  Stuart.  "  He  faints  from  weariness."  No  one 
moved.  The  whole  company  seemed  stunned  by  this 
sudden  disaster. 

"  Phyllis,  pour  wine  into  a  goblet  and  give  it  to  Anhalt," 
commanded  the  Queen.  "  These  fools  have  parted  from 
their  senses,  and  that  poor  old  man  is  near  to  swooning." 
My  Lady  Phyllis  brought  the  wine.  Elizabeth  took  the 
goblet  and  held  it  out  to  Duke  Christian. 

"  Drink,  my  friend.  You  shall  tell  us  your  sorry  history 
when  you  are  refreshed."  The  old  man  drank  a  few  drops 
gulpingly. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  and  two  great  tears  rolled  down  his 
weather-beaten  cheeks,  "  alas !  that  I  have  failed  you ! 
Fly,  for  the  dear  God's  sake  ! " 

Now  a  wild  horror  seized  the  company,  and  a  babel  of 
voices  arose.  "  The  enemy  ! — the  Cossacks ! — they  will 
put  us  to  death  ! — they  will  massacre  us  ! — where  is  our 
army  ? — Destroyed  ! — Alas  !  fly,  fly — the  Cossacks  ! " 

Desperately  men  ran  hither  and  thither,  some  to  the 
windows,  peering  anxiously  through  the  diamond  panes  as 
though  they  expected  to  see  the  dreaded  Cossacks  riding 
up  to  the  Palace,  some  to  fetch  their  pistols  lying  on  the 
table  of  the  smaller  hall.  The  women,  weeping,  clung  to 
each  other.  Only  Elizabeth  Stuart  and  her  Englishwomen 
remained  calm  ;  Amalia  Solms  was  yattering  with  terror. 

"  Madame,  let  us  hide  in  the  cellars !  The  Cossacks 
will  ravage  us,"  she  wailed.  The  Queen  turned  on  her 
furiously. 

"  Recall  your  senses  !  Are  you  a  serving- wench  ?  Must 
you  yowl  like  a  cur  ?  God  !  I  thought  you'd  good  blood 
in  your  veins  ! "  she  cried.  "  Come,  let  us  go  and  collect 
what  clothes  we  need.  If  we  have  to  fly  we  must  have 
other  raiment  than  a  satin  skirt  and  an  embroidered 
fardingale ! " 

"You  always  insult  me,  madame,"  began  the  Solms, 
drying  her  eyes  and  drawing  herself  up. 

"  Praise  be  to  insult  if  it  makes  you  behave  like  a  lady 
of  quality ! "  said  Elizabeth  Stuart  bluntly.  She  led  the 


240  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

way  through  the  long  corridors  to  her  own  apartments 
Here  the  quiet  was  like  balm  after  the  uproar  in  the  Hall 
of  Homage.  Elizabeth  Stuart  gave  her  orders  as  if  she 
were  preparing  for  a  day's  hunting. 

"  Give  me  the  green  velvet  riding-gown ;  yes,  the 
warmer  one.  Now  my  plain  hat  with  the  diamond 
buckle ;  nay,  not  one  with  a  feather.  Phyllis,  help  the 
Lady  of  Solms  to  gather  my  jewels  together.  Alison, 
go  bid  the  nursewoman  prepare  Rupert  for  a  journey  to 
a  neighbouring  castle.  Do  not  tell  her  ought,  save  that 
the  King  wishes  us  to  leave  the  Hradcany,  or  she  will  lose 
her  wits  with  fear.  There,  give  me  Jacky's  coat — poor 
one ! "  she  said,  catching  the  little  monkey  up,  "  I  will 
never  fail  you."  Her  calmness  gave  confidence  to  her 
ladies,  and  they  did  her  bidding  promptly. 

A  hurried  knock  came  on  the  door  and  a  page  ran  in. 

"  Madame,  the  King  has  ordered  the  caresses  immedi- 
ately," he  began,  but  paused  in  surprise  as  a  man  pushed 
past  him  roughly.  It  was  Master  Scultetus. 

"  The  King  has  ridden  out  to  the  Strahow  Gate ! " 
he  cried.  "  He  bids  your  Majesty  fly  to  the  Old  City 
at  once.  The  coaches  will  be  in  the  courtyard ;  I  will 
take  charge  of  you,  will  escort  you  to  the  other  side 
of  the  river.  Your  Majesty  must  not  wait  for  the  King's 
return." 

"  Until  his  Majesty  is  with  me,  I  shall  not  leave  the 
palace,"  the  Queen  answered  haughtily. 

"It  is  the  King's  command,"  began  the  Calvinist. 

"  When  the  King  is  not  here,  I  command,  sir,"  she  re- 
turned, and  flung  back  her  head  with  her  accustomed 
proud  gesture. 

The  noise  of  running  and  a  confused  murmur  of  voices 
fell  on  their  hearing,  and  a  crowd  of  waiting-women 
rushed  into  the  Queen's  apartments. 

"  Save  us — you  brought  us  here,  the  Cossacks  are  upon 
the  town  ! "  they  sobbed  ;  they  were  the  German  tiring- 
women  and  underlings  who  had  accompanied  her  Majesty 
from  Heidelberg. 

"  We  have  seen  the   Cossacks   running  through  the 


FLIGHT  241 

streets  !  Save  us !  You  brought  us  to  Prague  !  "  they 
moaned. 

"  You  have  seen  the  Cossacks  ? "  queried  her  Majesty. 
Even  her  cheek  blanched  at  this,  for  all  knew  the  horrors 
wrought  by  the  Polish  soldiery. 

"  Madame,  fly  ere  it  is  too  late,"  urged  Scultetus. 

"  I  have  told  you,  sir,  that  I  await  the  King,"  she  said 
proudly ;  "  or  news  of  him,"  she  added  a  little  tremulously. 
Now  the  whole  palace  echoed  with  cries  and  sobs ;  men 
and  women  rushed  through  the  corridors  crying  the  word 
"  Cossacks ! "  Everywhere  was  panic,  confusion,  and 
useless  haste.  Elizabeth  Stuart  felt  how  alone  she  was 
among  this  distracted  crowd.  Alas !  why  had  she  given 
Schomberg  permission  to  leave  her  ?  He  had  always 
stood  between  her  and  the  difficulties  of  a  great  house- 
hold. 

"  At  least  await  the  King  in  the  courtyard  porch," 
urged  Scultetus.  "  The  coaches  are  there,  and,  when  his 
Majesty  returns,  you  can  ride  away  immediately." 

Elizabeth  Stuart  looked  round  her  room.  She  had 
spent  many  a  happy  hour  here  during  her  year  in 
Bohemia.  Should  she  ever  again  see  this  room  with 
the  gilded  mirrors,  the  large,  tapestry-hung  bed  where 
Rupert  had  been  born,  the  splendid  Renaissance  mould- 
ings on  wall  and  ceiling  ?  Yet,  after  all,  if  she  left 
Prague  for  ever  it  could  be  but  to  return  to  Heidelberg. 

"  Madame  !  madame,  I  pray  you  hasten  !  "  Scultetus' 
harsh  voice  broke  in  on  her  pondering. 

"  There  is  enough  haste  in  the  world  already,"  she  an- 
swered, but,  clasping  her  monkey  in  her  arms,  she  passed 
out  into  the  corridor.  Here  the  waiting-women  were 
huddled  together,  weeping  and  wailing. 

"  Save  us ! "  they  cried  when  they  saw  the  Queen. 

"  Come,  then,  and  if  I  am  saved  you  will  be  rescued 
too,"  she  said  kindly.  Together  they  took  their  way 
through  the  maze  of  corridors  to  the  porch  of  the  second 
courtyard. 

It  was  an  unwonted  group,  like  to  some  fantastic 
finale  to  a  comic  mask — the  Queen  and  her  ladies 


242  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

in  riding-gowns,  the  serving-maids,  tiring-women,  her 
Majesty's  laundresses,  the  German  scullery- wenches, — 
velvets  and  jewels  beside  homespun  cloth,  coarse  aprons, 
and  linen  caps.  Master  Scultetus,  sombre  and  unsightly 
in  his  long  black  gown  and  skull-cap,  was  there ;  and 
one  or  two  courtiers  richly  attired  as  they  had  left  the 
State  banquet,  a  few  young  pages  in  velvet  tunics,  lackeys 
in  full  gala  livery,  and  cooks  in  white  overalls.  The 
courtyard  was  full  of  coaches :  here  was  a  baggage-waggon 
which  sumptermen  were  piling  up  with  furniture,  bed- 
hangings,  and  linen  ;  there  was  a  cart  which  Master  Came- 
rarius  and  his  clerks  were  filling  with  State  documents. 

For  some  time  these  proceedings  continued  undis- 
turbed, and  a  measure  of  calm  returned  to  the  waiting 
crowd.  One  or  two  women  hurried  away  to  fetch  their 
cloaks,  lackeys  ran  to  bring  some  of  her  Majesty's  coffers 
which  a  few  tiring-women,  taking  courage  now,  remem- 
bered to  pack.  The  Queen  sat  on  the  guards'  bench 
with  her  monkey  clasped  in  her  arms,  while  beside  her 
the  nurse-woman  swayed,  hushing  the  baby  Prince  to 
sleep.  With  trembling  lips  the  woman  hummed  a 
lullaby,  prompted  by  that  magnificent  instinct  which 
teaches  women  to  know  how  battle,  murder,  and  grim 
death  may  riot  near,  but  that  the  babies  must  sleep 
whate'er  befalls. 

There  came  the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs,  and  a  dozen 
riders  dashed  into  the  courtyard. 

The  Queen  advanced  to  the  porch.  "  Friedrich  ! "  she 
said,  and  the  word  thrilled  from  her  lips  like  a  cry  of 
joy ;  for  despite  courage,  pride,  and  calmness  she  had 
agonised  while  the  King  was  away.  Her  fancy  had 
painted  half-a-hundred  pictures  wherein  he,  whom  she 
loved  more  with  the  sheltering  tenderness  of  a  mother 
than  with  the  love  of  a  woman,  lay  bleeding,  suffering, 
slain  perchance.  Now  one  glance  at  his  face  was 
sufficient  to  tell  her  that  disaster  had  come  to  them, 
and  immediately  her  courage  rose  ready  to  meet  what- 
ever fate  held  in  store.  The  King  dismounted  and  hurried 
to  her. 


FLIGHT  243 

"  All  is  lost,"  he  said  dully ;  "  the  whole  army  is  in 
flight.  I  found  a  rabble  of  our  men  battering  at  the 
Strahow  Gate,  praying  for  admittance.  Schlick  was  there, 
and  Hohenlohe.  I  ordered  the  gates  to  be  opened,  and 
they  were  borne  in  among  an  ugly  rush  of  fugitives. 
They  say  that  a  number  of  Hungarians  have  entered 
through  some  breach  in  the  walls ;  many  have  tried  to 
ford  the  river  beyond  the  ramparts ;  hundreds  are 
drowned ! "  He  bowed  his  head,  and  stood  bent  and 
broken  as  an  old  man. 

"  Will  you  not  defend  the  town  ? "  she  cried. 

"  Useless,  useless,"  he  muttered ;  "  there  is  treachery  ! 
The  enemy  is  upon  us — we  must  fly ! "  Those  nearest 
the  King  among  the  listening  crowd  heard  him  say  the 
words,  "  The  enemy  is  upon  us,"  and  instantly  a  shriek  of 
terror  and  a  wild  tumult  arose.  "  Fly !  fly  !  the  Cossacks ! " 
Men  and  women  rushed  helter-skelter  across  the  court- 
yard. Scultetus'  harsh  voice  was  heard  even  above  the 
din: 

"The  coaches!  To  the  coaches!  Hasten!"  The 
Queen  was  almost  pushed  into  the  first  coach,  her  ladies 
after  her. 

"  Put  the  nurse-woman  here  beside  me  !  Give  Rupert 
to  me  ! "  she  cried. 

"  No  time,  they  can  follow  in  the  second  coach  ! "  called 
Friedrich.  "Drive  on!  Hasten!  To  the  Old  Town,  across 
the  Karl's  Bridge."  He  mounted  his  horse,  ranged  up 
beside  her  Majesty's  coach,  and  the  cavalcade  started  at 
a  hand-gallop.  A  frenzy  seized  those  left  in  the  court- 
yard, and  the  coaches  were  besieged  by  crowds  of  sobbing, 
clamouring  women. 

In  the  porch  a  courtier,  who  had  kept  a  remnant  of 
self-control,  heard  a  wailing  cry  at  his  feet,  and  saw  a 
bundle  of  fine  linen  and  flimsy  laces  lying  beneath  the 
guards'  bench. 

"  God  in  heaven !  The  little  Prince  ! "  the  courtier 
cried,  and,  seizing  the  bundle,  he  shouldered  roughly 
through  the  crowd  to  the  nearest  coach. 

"  Give  way  ! "  he  thundered.    "  Here  is  a  more  precious 


244  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

burden  than  such  as  you  ! "  He  struck  out  fiercely,  even 
drew  his  sword.  "  Here  !  you  woman,  whoever  you  may 
be,  take  the  child  to  the  Old  Town ! "  he  cried,  and  flung 
the  infant  into  the  arms  of  a  kitchen- wench  who  was 
seated  in  a  gilded  carosse  where  the  highest  in  the  land 
were  wont  to  ride.  Before  the  driver  could  whip  up  the 
rearing,  frightened  horses  a  woman  flung  herself  on  to  the 
coach-step. 

"  Give  me  my  baby ! "  she  yelled,  and,  clambering  into 
the  coach,  snatched  Prince  .Rupert  from  the  astonished 
kitchen-wench.  Once  more  the  instinct  of  the  nurse 
had  conquered  terror,  and  the  babe  was  safe  in  the 
arms  of  the  craven  who,  in  her  panic,  would  have  left 
him  to  be  trampled  to  death. 

Swaying  and  jolting,  coach  after  coach  drove  away 
from  the  Hradcany  Palace.  Soldiers  of  the  King's 
Company  galloped  through  the  cobble-stoned  yard ; 
sumptermen  and  pack-horses  and  baggage-waggons ; 
serving-maids  and  henchmen,  bakers,  embroiderers, 
shoemakers,  furriers — a  motley  crowd — joined  in  the 
hurrying  stream  which  poured  in  mad  confusion  down 
the  hill  towards  the  Old  Town. 

In  that  surging  crowd  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  drive 
quickly.  The  whole  of  Prague  was  gathered  on  the 
Queen's  route ;  shouts  and  cries  filled  the  air.  Here  was 
a  bearded  soldier  telling  his  own  version  of  the  battle  to  a 
group  of  eager  burghers ;  here  a  peasant  from  one  of  the 
villages  near  the  White  Mountain  was  being  questioned  by 
a  throng  of  half  inquisitive,  half  terror-stricken  citizens  ; 
Jews,  artisans,  workmen,  soldiers,  market-women.  It  was 
a  dense  mob,  and  though  now  and  then  a  man  would 
doff  his  cap  as  the  Queen  passed,  there  was  not  wanting 
in  hostile  cries,  and  even  once  or  twice  a  stone  thudded 
against  the  leather  curtain  of  her  Majesty's  travelling 
coach. 

At  length  the  Karls  Bridge  was  reached.  Here  the 
crowd  was  even  more  closely  packed,  and  the  King  and 
his  few  courtiers  reined  in  their  horses,  leaving  the  coach 
to  lead  the  way.  Towards  the  centre  of  the  bridge  the 


FLIGHT  245 

rabble  was  so  thick  that  the  coach  perforce  halted  before 
the  stone  crucifix.  Here  stood  a  thin-faced  man  in  a 
black  cassock.  He  had  climbed  on  to  the  stone  balus- 
trade, and,  steadying  himself  by  holding  the  base  of 
the  cross  with  one  hand,  he  stood  with  outstretched  arm 
pointing  at  her  Majesty.  A  lull  fell,  all  around  desired 
to  hear  what  this  man  would  say. 

"  Thou,  who  hast  insulted  the  Christ,  see  now  how  swift 
is  God's  vengeance  ! "  he  cried  loudly.  "  Thou,  who  didst 
swear  never  to  pass  this  bridge  till  this  emblem  of  our 
Faith  was  destroyed,  see  now,  how  thou  art  forced  to  fly 
into  exile  !  The  Christ  is  avenged  ! "  Furiously  the  King 
drew  his  sword,  and  essayed  to  press  his  way  through  the 
mob ;  but  rude  hands  were  laid  on  his  bridle,  and  his 
horse  was  forced  back  on  its  haunches.  By  the  time  the 
King  had  succeeded  hi  calming  the  terrified  animal  the 
speaker  had  disappeared,  swallowed  up  by  the  surging 
crowd.  Once  during  this  harangue  the  Queen  had  made 
a  movement  as  though  she  would  rise  and  deny  this 
accusation,  but,  though  she  had  opened  her  lips  to  speak, 
she  had  said  no  word.  Denial  was  useless.  Perhaps  she 
felt  she  had  too  true  a  story  to  tell ;  none  would  believe 
her !  An  ominous,  hostile  roar  went  up,  then  came  a 
momentary  lull,  and  some  one  shouted  a  Czechish  sen- 
tence which  was  greeted  by  a  yell  of  coarse  laughter. 

With  flushed  cheeks,  eyes  ablaze  with  anger,  and  head 
proudly  erect,  the  Queen  sat  silent  as  her  coach  passed 
over  the  Karls  Bridge  and  into  the  narrow  streets  of  the 
Old  Town  of  Prague. 


In  a  citizen's  house  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Moldau 
there  was  a  company  assembled.  In  a  low  ceilinged 
chamber  hung  with  ancient  tapestries,  and  furnished  with 
heavy  chairs,  a  massy  centre  table,  and  ancient  carven 
sideboards  decked  with  silver  cups  and  elaborately  em- 
blazoned glasses,  a  fire  burned  brightly  on  the  wide  hearth. 
On  the  table  and  the  sideboards,  waxen  candles,  in  heavy 
silver  candlesticks,  shed  a  soft  light  on  the  anxious  faces 


246  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

of  the  company.  Outside,  a  rising  gale  moaned  fitfully, 
and  the  spasmodic  gusts  drove  the  raindrops  sharply 
against  the  panes  of  the  small  lattice  windows. 

King  Friedrich  was  seated  at  the  centre  table  before  a 
slender  glass  wherefrom  arose  the  perfume  of  mulled  wine, 
but  the  King  was  not  tempted  by  its  fragrancy  ;  he  pushed 
away  the  glass,  and,  leaning  his  head  upon  his  hand, 
he  stared  moodily  at  the  leaping  flames  on  the  hearth. 
Elizabeth  Stuart  sat  in  a  high-backed  chair ;  ever  and 
anon  her  strong  white  fingers  drummed  impatiently  on  the 
wooden  chair-arms.  My  Lady  of  Solms,  my  Lady  Phyllis 
Devereux,  Mistress  Alison  Hay,  Mistress  Clovelly  and 
Mistress  Stanley  were  grouped  together  near  the  window. 
Master  Scultetus,  Duke  Christian  of  Anhalt,  my  Lords  of 
Thurn,  Hohenlohe,  and  Schlick,  young  Bernard  Thurn  and 
several  Czechish  gentlemen  sat  round  the  table ;  while 
before  the  hearth  the  English  ambassadors,  Sir  Richard 
Weston  and  Sir  Edward  Conway,  conversed  in  low  tones 
with  Sir  Francis  Nethersole,  the  British  agent  to  the 
Protestant  Union. 

"  My  lord,  I  pray  you  not  to  counsel  the  King  to  tarry 
in  Prague,"  said  Hohenlohe  after  a  long  pause.  "  The 
day  is  lost ;  the  army  is  destroyed ;  what  will  avail  if  the 
King  is  taken  prisoner  ?  " 

"  Perchance  you  are  right,"  said  Thurn  musingly ;  "  yet, 
if  the  Duke  of  Bavaria  answers  that  he  grants  eight  days' 
armistice,  could  we  not  rally  enough  troops  to  defend  the 
city  ?  We  could  hold  out  for  a  few  weeks'  siege.  Sir 
Edward  Conway,  how  long  would  you  need  to  ride  to 
England,  and  return  with  enough  English  gold  to  buy  off 
Maximilian,  or  at  least  Messieurs  de  Tilly  and  Bucquoi  ? " 
Conway  shook  his  head. 

"  Alas !  sir,  I  could  but  promise  to  return  in  twenty- 
five  days,  although  I  would  spare  no  effort ;  yet  I  must 
have  a  few  days  in  England  to  arrange  the  collection  of 
so  large  a  sum,  and  the  King,  my  master,  will  require  a 
day  or  more  to  consider  if  he  can  vouch  for  this  outlay," 
he  said  doubtfully. 

"  Surely,  no  one  can  hesitate  before  emergency ! "  cried 


FLIGHT  247 

Anhalt.  "  Even  King  James — "  he  paused  and  glanced 
at  the  Queen. 

"  My  lords,"  she  said,  "  this  is  no  time  for  negotiations ; 
we  must  stand  or  fall  by  our  own  endeavour — battle 
alone  against  our  foes  or  fly  before  them.  My  father  will 
not  help ;  later,  perchance,  he  will  send  troops  to  sweep 
Spinola  from  the  Palatinate,  but  for  Bohemia  he  will  do 
nothing.  Am  I  right,  gentlemen  ? "  she  added  to  the 
Englishmen. 

"  I  fear  your  Maj — your  Highness  is  but  too  true  a 
prophet,"  returned  Conway. 

"  Fly  now — at  once,  sire  ! "  Thurn  exclaimed.  "  We 
risk  our  heads  by  staying  here !  Death  and  dishonour 
only  await  us,  and  your  Majesty's  liberty  is  at  stake." 

"  Monsieur  mon  pere !  death  may  be  in  store,  but  can 
dishonour  approach  those  who  die  for  Bohemia  ? "  cried 
Bernard  Thurn  hotly.  "  I  pray  you  let  me  escort  her 
Majesty  to  Karlstein.  I  will  guard  her  there — for  a  year 
if  there  is  need,  and,  when  we  have  re-won  Bohemia,  she 
will  return  to  her  town  of  Prague." 

"  You  speak  a  vain  thing,  my  young  sir ! "  growled 
Hohenlohe.  "  As  a  tactician  I  know  how  useless  it  is  to 
rally  a  disheartened  army  in  the  face  of  an  overwhelming 
organised  force !  Flight  is  the  only  reasonable  course. 
Who  gave  you  leave  to  meddle  in  the  council  of  grown 
men  ? "  he  added,  turning  upon  Bernard  Thurn  in  that 
access  of  fury  which  is  bred  by  fear. 

"  We  dally  with  words,  my  lord,"  answered  the  young 
man  boldly ;  "  the  night  has  fallen  and  we  have  done 
nought !  My  commanders  !  Give  me  leave  to  ride  with 
a  flag  of  truce  to  Duke  Maximilian  and  crave  an  eight 
days'  armistice !  At  least  that  will  give  time  for  your 
deliberations,"  he  added  with  a  hint  of  scorn  in  his  voice. 

"  According  to  Mendoza's  rule  a  flag  of  truce  from  a  van- 
quished foe  can  only  mean  surrender,"  said  Anhalt  slowly. 

"  And  yet  again,  by  the  writings  of  the  Dutch  School 
a  parley  may  take  place  at  any  time  without  binding  either 
parties  to  any  course  of  action,"  replied  Hohenlohe. 

"  Ah !  sirs !  surely  this  is  no  time  for  written  rules  J " 


248  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

cried  Elizabeth  Stuart  impatiently.  "  Let  Bernard  Thurn 
go  demand  the  truce,  and  then  we  shall  know  how  long 
we  have  to  decide  our  plan  of  action." 

"  Sire,  have  I  leave  to  ride  to  the  enemy's  camp  ? " 
said  Bernard  Thurn.  The  King  nodded,  and,  turning 
to  Camerarius,  he  said: 

"  You  had  best  write  praying  for  an  eight  days'  truce." 
The  secretary  drew  out  of  his  pocket  a  scroll  of  parch- 
ment and  an  inkhorn.  Deftly  he  sharpened  a  quill,  and, 
leaning  low  over  the  table,  began  to  write.  Silence  fell 
on  the  company,  broken  only  by  the  crackling  of  the  fire, 
the  hurrying  scud  of  the  rain  against  the  windows,  the 
moaning  of  the  wind-gusts,  and  the  scratch  of  the  quill 
as  Camerarius  embellished  this  missive  of  haste  and 
supplication  with  flourishes  and  initial  letters. 

When  the  document  was  finished,  the  King  affixed  to 
it  that  "  Fredericus  Rex  "  which  he  had  ne'er  thought  to 
sign  beneath  so  sorry  a  page  of  history. 

"  Take  this  missive  to  my  cousin  of  Bavaria,  Count 
Bernard  Thurn.  Tell  him  I  crave  his  kindness  by  reason 
of  our  kinship,"  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  his  usual  grand- 
iloquent pomposity. 

"  Tell  him  no  such  thing,  my  lord  ! "  broke  in  the  Queen 
impulsively;  "  say,  rather,  that  we  but  crave  his  chivalrous 
courtesy  that  we  may  fight  him  the  better !  We  ask  no 
kindness  from  our  foes ;  the  King  did  not  express  himself 
clearly  ! "  Bernard  Thurn  bent  the  knee  before  her. 

"  I  would  serve  a  man  of  such  spirit  to  the  death, 
madarne,"  he  said  huskily,  and  went. 

"  Blessed  undaunted  lady ! "  murmured  Sir  Edward 
Conway. 

Hour  after  hour  dragged  its  leaden-footed  way  through 
the  night.  The  Queen's  ladies  had  gone  to  rest;  the 
gentlemen's  heads  sank  forward  in  drowsy  weariness. 
Often  the  citizen,  who  owned  the  house,  came  in  and 
threw  fresh  logs  upon  the  glowing  embers  on  the  hearth, 
snuffed  a  candle,  brought  new  flagons  of  wine  or  more 
meat  and  bread. 


FLIGHT  249 

The  Queen  still  sat  in  the  high-backed  chair,  though 
sometimes  she  rose  stiffly  and,  going  to  the  window,  stared 
out  into  the  darkness.  Once  as  she  passed  near  the  King 
she  touched  him  gently  on  the  shoulder.  He  started, 
and,  catching  her  hand  in  both  of  his,  gazed  up  at  her 
piteously.  She  glanced  at  the  gentlemen  ;  some  were 
dozing  uneasily,  and  those  who  were  awake  had  averted 
their  eyes  from  this  commune  of  stricken  souls.  Gently 
she  drew  his  head  against  her  breast,  and  her  hand 
wandered  over  his  hot  brow. 

"  Darkness  and  sunshine  take  their  turns  on  earth, 
dear  heart,"  she  whispered ;  "  yet  doth  love  remain  un- 
changed whate'er  befalls." 

"  I  have  failed,"  he  muttered  brokenly ;  "  men  will 
mock  me " 

"  Courage !  How  often  has  failure  been  the  prologue 
to  triumph !  We  cannot  be  brought  under  fortune  save 
by  owning  misfortune.  Oh  !  dear  heart,  you  are  so  strong, 
and  I  am  very  weak ;  help  me  now."  It  was  the  old 
splendid  falsehood  whereby  the  strong  woman  seeks  to 
inspire  strength  in  the  weak  man — the  grand  untruth  to 
which  only  the  strong  dare  stoop.  The  King  sprang  up 
impetuously.  "  The  Queen  is  very  weary,  my  lords,"  he 
cried ;  "  let  us  decide  that,  come  what  may,  we  stay  in 
Prague  and  fight  to  the  last !  And  now  to  sleep !  Let 
me  be  summoned  when  my  young  Lord  Thurn  returns. 
I  give  you  tryst  at  sunrise,  when  we  will  take  the  proper 
measures  for  our  army."  His  burst  of  energy  seemed  to 
recall  the  courage  of  those  weary  watchers,  and  from 
despair  they  awoke  to  effort. 

"  We  will  stay  and  work  out  plans  of  defence  ! "  said 
the  elder  Thurn.  "  We  will  have  a  good — "  The  Queen 
interrupted  him. 

"  Think  you  that  kings  sleep  while  there  is  a  battle  to 
be  planned  ?  Nay,  my  lord !  Friedrich  of  Bohemia 
works  with  you,  and  I,  who  am  no  skilled  tactician,  will 
at  least  stay  by  to  cheer  you — if  I  can."  She  resumed 
her  seat  in  the  high-backed  chair  and  silently  watched 
how  Anhalt,  Thurn,  Hohenlohe,  and  the  rest  wrote  com- 


250  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

mands,  drew  up  manifestoes,  manoeuvred — on  paper — 
with  an  army  which  lay  slaughtered  not  two  miles  away, 
or  with  disbanded  troops  of  mutineers  and  deserters. 
She  knew  full  well  that  all  this  was  futile,  but  she  felt 
that  to  the  last  it  behoved  the  King  to  strive ;  that  his 
only  dignity  lay  in  a  semblance  of  courageous  hope  now 
that  all  was  lost.  Yet  it  was  not  her  way  to  underrate 
the  gravity  of  their  plight.  It  was  easy  enough  for 
Thurn  to  bid  them  fly,  but  whither  could  they  turn  their 
steps  ?  The  Palatinate  being  entirely  overrun  by  Spinola's 
troops,  the  threatened  city  of  Heidelberg  would  be  no 
safer  a  refuge  than  Prague.  In  any  case  it  would  be 
impossible  to  win  through  the  lines  of  the  Imperial  army 
which  blocked  the  road  to  the  Palatinate.  Their  only 
course  was  to  pass  through  Silesia,  and  throw  themselves 
on  the  hospitality  of  George  William  of  Brandenburg. 

The  gray  dawn  had  long  come,  and  still  there  was  no 
answer  from  Maximilian  of  Bavaria,  but  the  occupation 
had  banished  despair  from  the  watchers'  hearts. 

Hurried  steps  came  on  the  stairs,  the  door  was  flung 
open,  and  Bernard  Thurn  stood  on  the  threshold. 

"  Maximilian  of  Bavaria  grants  eight  hours'  armistice. 
He  bade  me  tell  your  Majesty  that  he  is  answerable  to  the 
Emperor  for  the  taking  of  the  rebellious  city  of  Prague," 
he  said  hoarsely.  "  I  have  ridden  as  hard  as  I  could,  but 
I  was  constantly  held  up  by  sentries  or  marauders ;  it  is 
nigh  upon  five  hours  since  the  truce  was  granted  !  Duke 
Maximilian  counted  it  from  last  midnight.  It  is  long  past 
dawn  now.  I,  too,  pray  your  Majesties  to  fly !  There  is 
not  a  single  regiment  of  your  army  ready  to  take  the 
field.  We  have  four  hundred  men  of  the  Guard  who 
were  at  the  Hradcany,  but  that  is  all  Bohemia's  army." 
The  generals  stared  at  one  another  in  consternation. 
Elizabeth  Stuart  rose. 

"  Are  there  tidings  of  Christian  of  Anhalt  and  of  Count 
Schomberg  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Madame,  the  death  of  heroes  calls  for  no  sorrow,"  the 
young  man  answered  solemnly.  She  bowed  her  head 


FLIGHT  251 

in  silence  for  an  instant,  then  in  a  low  voice  she 
said: 

"  I  would  know  where  and  how  they  died  ?  " 

"  Christel  fell  in  the  melee  at  the  head  of  his  men, 
and  Schomberg  was  cut  down  while  he  defended  the 
King's  standard  at  the  Star  Palace,"  Bernard  Thurn 
said.  With  outstretched  hands  the  Queen  went  to  old 
Anhalt. 

"  God  comfort  you,"  she  whispered.  The  old  man 
bowed  over  her  hand. 

"  Madame,"  he  made  answer,  "  he  was  the  light  of 
mine  eyes,  but  the  day  is  lost  and  I  have  no  time  for 
grieving  now.  There  are  enough  years  wherein  to  mourn 
him."  He  turned  away,  and  the  Queen  left  him,  knowing 
that  silence  was  the  only  tribute  she  could  pay  to  his 
pain. 

"  Order  the  coaches,  Count  Thurn,"  she  said  calmly. 
"  Whenever  they  are  ready  we  will  start  for  Silesia.  All 
the  coaches,  sir,"  she  added.  "  I  will  not  leave  one  terror- 
stricken  serving- wench  to  rue  the  day  when  she  followed 
Elizabeth  Stuart  to  Bohemia." 

The  rain  fell  in  torrents  over  Prague,  and,  despite 
curiosity  and  anxiety,  the  streets  were  empty  as  the 
King's  cortege  drove  away.  Through  the  slit  in  the 
leather  curtain  of  her  carosse  the  Queen  peered  at  those 
gloomy,  narrow  streets.  How  different  was  this  exit  from 
Prague  to  her  sunlit  entry  but  a  short  year  since ! 

When  the  cavalcade  reached  a  wood  beyond  the  city 
where  she  had  sometimes  hunted,  she  bid  her  driver 
pause,  and  leaning  out  of  her  carosse  she  gazed  over  the 
town.  She  could  see  the  turrets  and  cupolas,  the  spires 
and  towers  of  the  Hradcany  Palace ;  but  the  mist  fell  like 
a  shroud  over  the  White  Mountain,  where  the  pride  of 
Bohemia  lay  shattered  for  ever. 


CHAPTER  XV 

HOLLAND 

"  Fille  et  femme  de  roy,  sans  biens  et  sans  couronne, 
Je  suis  de  mon  epoux  le  sort  trop  inhumain. 
Sans  en  ctre  attendri  mon  Pere  m'abandonne, 
Mais  la  Hollande  m'  ouvre  et  sa  bourse  et  son  sein." 

IT  was  spring,  and  over  Holland  the  clear  skies  smiled  ; 
the  fields  were  radiant  in  their  young  green,  and  the 
windmills  turned  lazily  beneath  the  kiss  of  the  soft 
breeze.     Quaintly  the  masts  of  ships  and  boat-sails  rose, 
seeming  to  glide  through  the  fields  themselves,  for  the 
canals  were  hidden  from  view,  deep  enshrined  between 
their  trim  banks. 

It  seemed  to  Elizabeth  Stuart  that  there  was  a  likeness 
to  England  in  this  peaceful  Dutch  land,  something  of  the 
same  suavity  in  the  air,  something  English  in  the  brilliancy 
of  the  green  of  grass  and  hedge,  and  in  the  neatness  of  the 
village  streets  with  the  homely,  square  brick  houses  and 
their  shining,  brass  door-knockers.  She  thought  they 
resembled  those  villages  near  Combe,  which  she  had  so 
often  seen  as  a  little  maiden.  After  the  o'er-darkened 
days  since  her  flight  from  Prague  the  Queen  was  very 
ready  to  respond  to  the  happy  mood  of  the  spring  days, 
for  despite  her  undaunted  cheerfulness  she  had  fought  a 
desperate  fight  with  sorrow  and  despair.  The  journey  to 
Breslau  had  been  a  grim  trial,  and  she  shuddered  when 
she  remembered  the  gloom,  the  pouring  rain,  the  deep 
mud  of  the  rutted  roads — then  the  chill  of  the  reception 
by  the  citizens  of  Breslau.  Who  wanted  to  honour  a 
fugitive  King  and  Queen  ?  There  was  danger  in  harbour- 
ing a  Prince  over  whom  the  ban  of  the  Empire  hovered ; 
the  victorious  Emperor's  wrath  would  be  meted  out  to 
those  who  gave  succour  to  his  fallen  foe.  The  Breslauers 
had  taught  Elizabeth  Stuart  the  first  line  in  that  lesson 
of  humiliation  which  it  was  ordained  she  should  learn  to 

252 


HOLLAND  253 

the  last  letter.  They  had  given  the  fugitives  shelter- 
had  even  raised  a  large  sum  of  money  for  them  ;  but  they 
had  showed  plainly  that  they  would  be  rid  of  their  un- 
fortunate royal  guests.  Then  George  William  of  Branden- 
burg, Friedrich's  sister's  spouse,  had  hung  back  in  offering 
hospitality ;  he  whom,  in  the  happy  days  at  Heidelberg, 
she  had  judged  so  shrewdly,  saying :  "  Our  fond  brother 
sits  eternally  on  a  stile  between  two  fields ;  he  could  ne'er 
be  a  foe  save  through  fear  for  his  own  skin,  but  God  grant 
I  may  never  need  to  depend  on  his  friendship."  He  had 
proved  her  bitterly  right,  for  he  had  professed  a  dozen 
reasons  for  refusing  her  shelter  in  Berlin ;  had  proffered 
the  gaunt,  uninhabited  Castle  of  Ciistrin,  but  at  the  same 
time  had  advised  her  to  refuse  his  generous  offer,  for 
Ciistrin  was  unfurnished,  unheated,  unvictualled — indeed 
he  had  retracted  his  offer  of  Ciistrin.  Then,  when  she  had 
set  out  from  Breslau,  deeming  that  when  she  arrived  in 
Berlin,  out  of  common  charity  he  could  not  refuse  shelter 
to  a  woman  so  near  the  agony  of  motherhood,  she  had  been 
stopped  by  his  messengers,  who  avowed  their  master's  re- 
luctance to  receive  her — nay, forbade  her  to  journey  farther 
to  Berlin  or  to  Ciistrin. 

Thus,  on  a  bitter  cold  December  night  she  had  found 
herself  stranded  on  the  country  roads  with  no  prospect  of 
finding  refuge — she,  Elizabeth  Stuart,  Queen  of  Bohemia, 
Electress  Palatine,  she,  who  bore  a  child  beneath  her  heart ! 
Like  an  outcast  beggar-woman  she  had  seen  the  lights 
gleaming  in  a  castle  window,  and,  poor  suppliant,  she  had 
stood  before  the  door  of  the  Castle  of  Carolath  and  prayed 
for  shelter  for  one  night.  In  this  hour  of  her  bitter  need 
she  had  found  a  friend — Herr  von  Schonaich,  Lord  of 
Carolath,  had  bidden  her  welcome,  had  bent  the  knee 
before  her,  and  prayed  her  honour  his  poor  house.  Many 
days  she  had  tarried  in  this  honourable  gentleman's  castle ; 
Schonaich  was  proud  to  brave  the  Emperor's  wrath,  proud 
to  offer  loyal  homage  to  the  fallen  sovereigns.  God  knows, 
it  was  to  cost  him  dear.  At  last  George  William  of 
Brandenburg  had  relented,  and  had  opened  the  doors — 
of  Ciistrin.  Here,  in  gaunt  rooms,  where  rats  ran  along 
the  broken  wainscoting,  she  had  camped,  making  what 


254  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

she  could  of  comfort  with  her  own  tapestries  and  bed- 
hangings,  and  buying  scant  victuals  from  the  ill-stored 
market  of  the  small  town.  Her  ladies  had  tended  her 
and  answered  her  brave  spirit  by  loyal  cheerfulness.  And 
here  but  a  few  days  after  her  arrival  she  had  given  birth 
to  a  "  large  and  goodly  "  son,  whom  she  had  caused  to  be 
christened  Maurice  after  the  Prince  of  Orange. 

O 

"  A  soldier's  name  for  my  little  one,  I  pray  you,"  she 
had  cried  from  her  tapestry-hung  bed  in  that  bare  un- 
lovely room.  "  He  will  have  to  seek  his  fortune  by  the 
sword.  Alack !  all  I  can  give  him  is  a  soldier's  name." 

The  gloom  of  Ciistrin  had  been  lightened  for  Elizabeth 
by  the  tidings  that  Christel  of  Anhalt,  though  sore 
wounded  and  a  prisoner  in  Vienna,  was  alive.  He  had 
been  found  among  a  heap  of  dead  on  the  battlefield 
of  the  White  Mountain,  and  had  been  dragged  before 
Bucquoi,  who,  most  chivalrous  of  foes,  had  caused  him  to 
be  well  tended  and  had  entertained  him  honourably. 
When  she  had  heard  this  news  it  had  been  to  Elizabeth 
Stuart  as  if  a  stone  were  lifted  from  her  heart,  for  not 
only  had  she  grieved  for  Christel,  but  it  had  seemed  to 
her  that  Destiny,  striking  thus  near  to  her,  was  a  sure 
omen  of  impending  doom  for  her  and  those  she  loved. 
Thus,  despite  the  dreariness  of  Ciistrin  and  the  darkness 
of  the  political  horizon,  her  buoyant  spirit  had  risen  and 
she  had  faced  life  once  more,  not  alone  with  her  accus- 
tomed brave  cheerfulness,  but  with  a  degree  of  real 
confidence  and  gaiety. 

George  William's  charity  had  been  as  short-lived  as  it 
had  been  grudgingly  given,  and  he  had  soon  required  his 
guests  to  seek  other  hospitality.  The  infant  Maurice 
could  be  housed  in  Berlin  if  need  be,  he  had  generously 
offered,  but  the  mother  and  father — this  vagrant  couple 
— must  move  on. 

Wolfenbiittel  had  been  the  next  stage,  and  here  her 
Majesty's  aunt  Elizabeth  of  Denmark,  Duchess  of  Bruns- 
wick, had  given  Elizabeth  Stuart  friendly  welcome.  At 
first  the  Queen  had  declared  she  would  not  sojourn  at 
Wolfenbiittel;  she  did  not  choose  to  associate  with  Christian 
of  Brunswick,  the  mad  Halberstadter  !  She  had  vowed 


HOLLAND  255 

lie  was  no  fitting  company  for  an  honest  woman,  be  she 
Queen  or  maid.  It  was  a  whimsey  of  her  Majesty's,  but 
she  had  long  been  full  of  scorn  and  anger  against  this 
reprobate  kinsman  of  hers.  Even  the  King  had  laughed 
at  her  for  this. 

"  Dear  heart,  the  Halberstadter  is  no  worse  than  many 
another  gallant ! "  he  had  said. 

"  I  say  he  is,  and  I  will  not  see  him.  That  is  enough  ! " 
she  had  answered  ;  and  when  Elizabeth  Stuart  spoke  thus 
vehemently  it  was  best  to  acquiesce.  But  the  pother  had 
been  soon  cleared  up :  Christian  of  Brunswick  was  not  at 
Wolfenbiittel,  not  even  at  Halberstadt ;  he  was  somewhere 
in  the  Netherlands  commanding  a  troop  of  Maurice  of 
Orange's  cavalry.  So  the  days  had  passed  peacefully 
enough  at  Wolfenbiittel. 

And  now  the  King  and  Queen  journeyed  to  the  Hague 
at  the  invitation  of  the  States  General  and  of  the  Stadt- 
houder  Maurice  of  Orange.  They  were  greeted  by  the 
Dutch  as  though  they  had  been  victors  on  a  triumphal 
progress.  Everywhere  great  crowds  applauded  the  Pro- 
testant champions ;  cannon  thundered  salutes  to  the  fallen 
monarch ;  the  estates  voted  goodly  sums  for  his  main- 
tenance ;  a  fine  house  in  the  Hague  was  to  be  placed  at 
his  disposal ;  and  their  entry  to  the  Hague  was,  if  any- 
thing, more  sumptuous  than  the  entry  thither  on  the 
bridal  journey  eight  years  ago.  A  respectful,  orderly 
crowd  lined  the  roads  for  miles,  and  the  broad  walk  of 
the  Vijverberg  was  so  packed  with  citizens  that  many 
were  pushed  into  the  shallow  square  sheet  of  water  and 
got  a  ducking  as  the  reward  of  their  enthusiasm. 

As  the  Queen's  carosse  moved  through  the  crowd  she 
was  hugely  diverted  at  the  aspect  of  this  assembly  of 
substantial  burghers,  for  their  sober-coloured  tunics 
merged  into  a  blurred  mass,  and  their  heads,  set  between 
exactly  similar  wheel-like  ruffs  and  high-crowned  black 
hats,  made  them  appear,  as  she  whispered  to  my  Lady 
Phyllis,  "  like  a  multitude  of  turnips  with  hats  set  upon 
round  white  plates." 

The  Queen  of  Bohemia's  house  faced  the  Lange  Voor- 
hout,  standing  a  little  back  from  the  broad  street,  in  a 


256  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

garden  with  high  clipped,  hornbeam  hedges,  and  a 
centre  fountain  bordered  by  formal  flower-beds,  where 
red  and  yellow  tulips  stood  in  prim,  decorous  rows.  It 
was  an  unpretentious  red-brick  house,  with  white  stone 
copings  framing  the  large,  square  windows ;  not  a  palace 
truly,  but  then  her  Majesty  would  only  sojourn  at  the 
Hague  until  the  evil  times  were  past  and  she  could 
return  either  to  Prague  or  to  Heidelberg ;  or,  if  this  did 
not  come  to  pass  hi  a  few  months,  she  would  presumably 
repair  to  her  father  at  Whitehall. 

Meanwhile  her  Court  at  the  Hague  immediately  be- 
came the  hub  of  Holland's  fashion.  Her  house  could 
boast  of  no  marbled  halls  as  at  Heidelberg,  of  no  gilded 
splendour  as  at  the  Hradcany,  yet  the  lofty,  panelled 
chambers  were  homely  and  comfortable,  with  their  deep 
fireplaces  gaily  adorned  by  the  coloured  Dutch  tiles,  and 
the  polished  oaken  wall-cupboards,  through  whose  glass 
doors  were  seen  the  blue  and  white  jars,  vases,  plates, 
and  cups  of  that  new  pottery  ware  of  Delft,  which  was 
already  so  much  the  mode  in  Holland.  These  rooms  saw 
brilliant  gatherings  of  ladies  and  gallants,  who  vowed 
that  though  Elizabeth  Stuart  had  temporarily  renounced 
the  splendour  of  a  Court,  still  she  was  always  a  queen 
regnant  over  a  kingdom  of  hearts  and  an  empire  of 
manifold  gaiety.  Perhaps  in  her  relief  at  the  ending  of 
those  dark  days  before  her  flight  from  Prague,  of  those 
dreary  months  of  sorrow  and  humiliation  in  Silesia  and 
Prussia,  the  Queen  was  a  trifle  over-merry  for  one  who 
was  the  cause  of  the  horror  of  war  having  been  let  loose 
over  Bohemia  and  the  Palatinate.  At  least,  so  said  those 
who  had  not  been  brought  within  the  magic  of  her  potent 
charm.  In  Holland  all  hailed  her  advent  with  enthusiasm 
— the  more  so  because  in  latter  years  there  had  been  no 
Court  at  the  Hague  ;  for  Maurice  of  Orange  and  his  half- 
brother,  Frederik  Hendrik,  were  unmarried,  and  thus 
the  Stadthouder's  Castle,  the  Binnenhof,  had  become  a 
trysting-place  of  soldiers,  a  college  of  tacticians,  more 
than  a  courtly  palace. 

Holland,  always  famed  as  the  home  of  culture  and  re- 
finement, had  risen  to  a  high  degree  of  prosperity  during 


HOLLAND  257 

the  twelve  years'  truce  with  her  traditional  foe,  Spain ; 
and  though  the  expiration  of  this  armistice  chanced  to 
coincide  with  the  dethroned  Bohemian  Majesties'  arrival, 
and  the  Dutch  were  busy  with  preparations  for  the  resump- 
tion of  active  warfare,  yet  there  was  a  sense  of  peaceful 
security  at  the  Hague. 

The  spring  days  passed  merrily  enough  for  Elizabeth 
Stuart,  and  she  followed  the  falcon  in  the  forests  near  the 
Hague,  danced  at  the  Binnenhof,  made  gay  excursions 
to  Amsterdam,  where  she  held  a  Court  and  graciously 
received  many  Englishwomen  of  fashion,  who  hurried 
over  to  Holland  to  offer  their  respectful  homage  to  her 
Majesty, 

What  mattered  it  that  Ferdinand  had  hurled  the  ban 
of  the  empire  upon  King  Friedrich  ?  It  was  illegal  thus 
to  pronounce  the  dread  sentence  which  made  a  prince  an 
outlaw,  and  those  who  befriended  him  or  his,  guilty  of 
high  treason  to  the  empire,  for  the  ban  had  been  spoken 
without  a  fair  and  open  trial,  and  this  was  contrary  to 
the  letter  of  the  law,  which  bound  the  Emperor  to  afford 
the  accused  trial  by  his  peers. 

Mansfeld,  probably  not  having  received  for  his  treachery 
as  large  a  price  as  he  had  expected  from  the  Emperor, 
was  in  arms  again  in  Friedrich's  name  on  the  frontier  of 
the  Palatinate  and  Bohemia.  So  far  things  were  not 
entirely  hopeless  for  King  Friedrich,  for  King  James  still 
professed  his  intention  of  sending  troops  to  save  the 
Palatinate,  though,  as  usual,  he  procrastinated,  alleging 
his  exchequer  to  be  empty.  Friedrich  implored  him  to 
provide,  nay,  to  lend  funds  for  maintaining  Mansfeld  and 
raising  an  English  army  to  reinforce  him ;  but  the  money 
was  refused,  and  only  a  small  force  of  two  thousand  men, 
under  Sir  Horace  Vere,  was  despatched  to  the  Palatinate 
with  instructions  to  garrison  Heidelberg,  Mannheim,  and 
Frankenthal,  which  Spinola  had  not  yet  seized.  Alas ! 
the  English  troops  in  Bohemia  had  played  a  sorry  part, 
for  the  garrison  of  six  hundred  Englishmen  which  had 
held  the  impregnable  Karlstein,  hearing  of  the  defeat  at 
the  White  Mountain,  had  surrendered  without  striking  a 

E 


258  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

blow.  Truly,  as  Elizabeth  Stuart  said  bitterly,  Bernard 
Thurn  had  been  right  when  he  had  so  proudly  declared 
that  the  Englishmen's  gallantry  would  match  the  Bohe- 
mians' valour  and  loyalty  !  Yet  she  must  now  e'en  place 
her  trust  in  another  body  of  English  volunteers  and  in 
the  treacherous  Mansfeld.  The  Princes  of  the  Protestant 
Union,  too,  had  now  openly  abandoned  King  Friedrich 
and  had  concluded  a  treaty  of  peace  with  Ferdinand, 
wherein  the  Bohemian  King  and  his  Palatinate  were  not 
even  mentioned. 

The  prospect  was  black  enough,  and  yet,  with  King 
James's  Ambassadors  negotiating  in  Vienna  for  a  peaceful 
arrangement,  with  Maurice  of  Orange  and  his  army  ready 
to  take  the  field,  with  the  King  of  Denmark  professing 
his  ardour  to  assist,  with  a  veritable  host  of  young  nobles 
pouring  into  the  Hague — Bohemians,  Germans,  English- 
men, Scotchmen,  French  Huguenots — all  eager  to  take 
arms  hi  the  cause  of  romantic  misfortune,  who  could 
blame  King  Friedrich  and  Elizabeth  Stuart  if  they 
deemed  the  gloom  which  hung  over  them  to  be  but 
a  passing  thundercloud  ? 

"  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death  and  I  will  give  thee  a 
crown  of  life,"  her  Majesty  quoted  when  Friedrich  grew 
faint-hearted.  "An  we  are  faithful  to  our  cause,  God 
will  remember  us  when  the  time  of  our  trial  is  over. 
Courage  and  a  bright  face,  dear  my  lord !  We  have 
but  to  wait  a  few  years,  and  then  hey  for  home  at 
Heidelberg,  if  not  to  Prague  again ! "  Thus  she  set 
herself  to  wait  bravely,  and  with  her  usual  undaunted 
spirit  she  threw  herself  into  whatever  the  Hague  offered 
of  gaiety.  Friedrich,  on  the  other  hand,  with  that  obsti- 
nate German  dislike  of  the  Dutch,  was  but  ill  at  ease  in 
Holland.  He  hated  the  Dutchman's  homely,  friendly 
ways;  they  seemed  to  him  too  informal,  and  lacking 
in  respect  to  a  German  prince.  In  the  Hague,  as  in 
almost  every  European  town,  there  were  distributed 
dozens  of  caricatures,  of  rudely  printed  pamphlets  and 
ribald  verses,  wherein  the  "Winter  King"  and  the  "Whiter 
Queen  "  were  held  up  to  ridicule.  Nowadays  Friedrich 


HOLLAND  259 

was  universally  known  by  this  sobriquet,  which  was  taken 
from  the  Pope's  saying  that  "  he  was  only  a  King  of 
Snows  whose  realm  would  soon  melt."  Friedrich  raged 
at  the  derisive  appellation,  and  his  anger  knew  no  bounds 
when  he  saw  her  Majesty  dubbed  "  Winter  Queen "  in 
the  pasquinades.  He  resented  these  lampoons  bitterly ; 
but  Elizabeth  laughed,  and  even  caused  them  to  be 
bought  for  her  from  the  pedlars  who  hawked  them 
through  the  streets. 

One  day  she  sat  in  her  wainscoted  parlour  with  a  heap 
of  these  "  Spottblatter  "  on  the  table  beside  her. 

"  See,  my  lord ! "  she  cried,  taking  one  from  the  pile. 
"  Here  am  I  dressed  as  a  beggar-woman,  with  a  baby 
strapped  to  my  shoulder ;  and  here  are  you  pushing  a 
hand-barrow  full  of  crowns,  and  underneath  is  written : 
'  A  Winter  King  seeks  Summer  employment ! ' '  She 
laughed,  and  handed  him  the  freshly  printed  sheet ! 

"  What  insolence  !  "  he  muttered  angrily.  "  God  give 
me  power  to  punish  these  loons  some  day ! " 

"  Why  not  laugh  instead  of  raging  ?  Laughter  routs 
brutal  mockery  so  much  better  than  weak  anger.  See, 
here  are  other  pasquinades.  Oh !  dear  my  lord,  never 
look  so  gloomy  ;  they  are  really  droll -enough."  She  read 
out  the  absurd  lampoon  purporting  to  be  a  Prague  town- 
crier's  proclamation  of  how  a  sallow-faced  youth,  afflicted 
with  a  squint,  had  gone  amissing.  "  This  fellow  answers 
to  the  name  of  Friedrich,  King  of  Bohemia,  and  has  just 
played  a  part  in  a  well-known,  but  badly  acted  comedy. 
A  reward  offered  for  keeping  him  out  of  sight,"  the  legend 
ended.  There  was  a  grotesque  drawing  illustrating  the 
popular  rhyme  which  was  sung  in  the  alleys  of  the  Hague 
just  then,  a  foolish  song  enough,  telling  how  Denmark, 
Holland,  and  England  had  promised  Friedrich  a  hundred 
thousand  soldiers,  but  that  as  men  were  scarce,  they  had 
sent :  Holland,  a  hundred  thousand  cheeses ;  Denmark,  a 
hundred  thousand  red-herrings  ;  and  England,  a  hundred 
thousand — ambassadors.  Elizabeth  Stuart  laughed  ;  on 
the  face  of  it  there  was  a  certain  truth  in  the  ditty,  and 
she  could  not  resist  the  humour  of  the  verse  concerning 


260  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

her  father's  hundred  thousand  ambassadors,  when  she 
recalled  the  many  useless  solemn  embassies  which  King 
James  always  delighted  to  despatch. 

With  sombre  brow  and  dejected  attitude  the  King 
stood  before  the  window,  gazing  dully  out  into  the  garden, 
while  the  Queen  looked  through  the  pamphlets.  Suddenly 
he  turned  on  her  almost  roughly. 

"  I  marvel,  madame,  that  you  find  pleasure  in  such 
insolent  trash,"  he  said. 

"  Pleasure  !  dear  heart  ?  "  she  answered  quietly.  "  Nay, 
but  I  find  these  verses  droll,  and  I  will  not  honour  them 
with  anger ;  they  are  not  worth  it." 

"  At  least  do  not  let  your  children  see  them,"  he  said. 

"  My  children  !  Yours,  too,  methinks  ! "  she  said, 
laughing.  "  Hal  could  not  understand  them,  though,  as 
you  say,  perchance  I  had  best  hide  them  from  Maurice, 
for  as  he  is  but  six  months  old,  he  might  be  deeply 
wounded.  Oh  !  dear  my  heart ;  if  you  would  take  the 
smaller  things  of  life  less  gravely !  You  and  Amalia 
Solms  half  kill  me  with  your  portentous  gravity  over 
small  matters ! " 

"  'Tis  the  German  way  to  treat  life  seriously — "  he 
began. 

"  'Tis  the  English  way  to  crush  disagreeable  trifles  by 
ignoring  them,"  she  said,  and  a  note  of  weariness  underlay 
her  bantering  tone.  "  Nay,  do  not  let  us  wrangle,"  she 
added ;  "  tell  me  whom  you  have  seen  on  the  Vijverberg 
this  day." 

He  told  her  how  he  had  conversed  with  Sir  Dudley 
Carlton,  the  English  envoy  to  their  High  Mightinesses 
the  States-General ;  how  Mijnheer  Jacob  Cats,  the  proverb 
lover,  had  paced  beside  him  for  a  half-hour's  talk ;  how 
the  Stadthouder's  brother,  Frederik  Hendrik  of  Orange, 
had  greeted  him  and  spoken  long  of  the  beauty  of  Amalia 
Solms ;  how  the  young  painter  Mierevelt  had  been  there. 

"  And,  sweeting,  I  have  some  tidings  which  your  fool 
pamphlets  put  from  my  memory,"  he  said.  "  Master 
Scultetus  writes  that  he  durst  not  stay  in  Heidelberg  for 
fear  of  Spinola's  troops,  and  thus  he  has  returned  to 


HOLLAND  261 

Silesia,  where  he  prays  us  to  obtain  for  him  a  cure 
of  souls." 

"  He  is  not  returning  to  us  ? "  she  cried.  "  Friedrich  ! 
I  could  sing  aloud  with  joy !  That  sour-visaged  man 
hath  brought  us  enough  ill  luck  all  these  years,  and  I  am 
too  happy  that  he  abandons  us  when  we  are  in  misfortune. 
But,  mark  you,  I  think  it  ugly  of  him,"  she  added. 

"  Woman's  logic  ! "  the  King  said  angrily,  though  a 
flush  of  embarrassment  rose  to  his  cheek.  "  You  accuse 
a  wise  man,  and  a  devoted  servant,  of  bringing  us  mis- 
fortune ;  you  are  glad  to  be  rid  of  him,  yet  you  censure 
him  for  not  wishing  to  be  a  burden  on  us  in  our 
poverty." 

"  Oh  !  our  poverty  •  "  she  mocked. 

"  Yes,  ma  mie,"  he  said  sadly,  "  we  are  mighty  poor.  I 
have  hardly  a  groschen  left,  and  we  are  bound  to  offer 
hospitality  and  even  to  pay  our  courtiers." 

"  Alas  !  how  great  a  loss  is  Schomberg ! "  she  answered. 
"  I  cannot  cope  with  treasury  accounts.  Have  we  really 
so  costly  a  retinue  ?  Yes,  we  have  a  dozen  Court  charges, 
and  no  Court !  Let  us  laugh  and  be  merry ;  gold  will  come 
to  us  from  one  source  or  t'other." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  you  are  right ;  all  will  yet  be  well.  But, 
sweeting,  I  have  not  told  you  all  my  tidings  yet."  He 
paused  ;  she  glanced  at  his  face,  and  saw  he  had  somewhat 
to  relate  which  he  knew  would  be  unpleasant  to  her. 

"  What  is  amiss  ?  "  she  asked  quickly. 

"  Nothing — nothing,  on  mine  honour  !  'Tis  only  that 
I  met  the  Haberstadter  on  the  Vijverberg,  and " 

"  The  Halberstiidter ! "  she  interrupted,  and  a  hot  flush 
rose  to  her  cheek.  "  I  will  not  see  that  roisterer  in  mine 
house." 

"  Dear  heart,"  he  said  hesitatingly,  "  I  could  not  be  un- 
civil to  a  kinsman  who  would  fain  serve  us  well.  He  was 
very  kindly  and  respectful  to  me  ;  his  sister  of  Nassau 
has  ever  been  right  friendly  to  us ;  and  he  is  a  goodly, 
well-looking  youth." 

"  I  will  not  let  him  come  to  mine  house.  God  wot ! 
both  his  mother  and  sister  have  suffered  enough  by  reason 


262  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

of  his  evil  life.     Friedrich,5  you  have  not  bidden  him  to 
sup  here  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes  !  Ah !  by  my  soul,  it  has  come  to  a  pretty  pass 
when  I  cannot  offer  hospitality  when  I  will.  Yes,  madame, 
I  have  bidden  Duke  Christian  of  Brunswick,  Lay  Bishop 
of  Halberstadt,  to  sup  at  mine  house  this  day,"  he  said, 
half  in  anger,  half  in  pleasantry,  altogether  wishful  to 
hide  his  embarrassment  at  having  braved  her  displeasure. 
The  Queen  rose. 

"  Your  Majesty  can  do  as  your  Majesty  pleases  in  your 
own  house,"  she  said  haughtily. 

"  Oh  !  be  ^not  wroth,  my  wondrous  tyrant ! "  he  said 
imploringly.  "  'Tis  only  this  once  that  Duke  Christian 
need  darken  your  doors,  ma  mie." 

"  You  have  bidden  him,  and  he  must  e'en  come  ;  but  I 
shall  not  speak  with  him,"  she  answered,  as  she  swept 
from  the  room  in  anger. 

Friedrich  stood  silent.  He  could  not  comprehend  the 
Queen's  mood.  Surely  it  could  not  harm  her  to  sup  with 
Christian  of  Brunswick  ?  Doubtless  he  was  famed  for 
his  wild  life,  but  the  Queen  was  not  wont  to  be  intolerant ; 
many  gallants  of  equal  ill  repute  frequented  the  Hague, 
and  she  had  not  been  thus  harsh.  Yet  it  seemed  as  if 
she  had  an  especial  grudge  against  the  Halberstadter,  as 
if  he  alone  must  bear  the  brunt  of  her  righteous  indig- 
nation. Well,  the  Halberstadter  must  sup  once  in  her 
Majesty's  house,  and  then  Friedrich  would  eschew  his 
company  for  the  future.  He  sighed,  and  wandered  out 
on  the  Voorhout  beneath  the  shady  lime  trees,  his  mind 
full  of  perplexity  at  the  whims  and  moods  of  even  the 
wisest  and  best  of  women. 

The  sun  was  setting  in  golden  splendour,  and  a  delicious 
coolness  arose  from  the  heavy  dews  which  already  lay  on 
the  flowers  in  the  garden,  while  the  leaves  of  the  lime 
trees  on  the  Voorhout  thirstily  drank  in  the  freshness 
after  the  long  glory  of  the  spring  day.  In  her  Majesty's 
parlour  the  guests  had  already  arrived,  and  were  talking 
and  laughing  gaily,  though  all  noticed  the  nervous  rest- 


HOLLAND  263 

lessness  of  the  King's  manner,  and  that  Elizabeth  Stuart, 
too,  seemed  less  gay  than  usual,  even  a  trifle  ill  at  ease 
and  haughty.  Mevrouw  van  der  Myle,  daughter  of  poor 
Olden  Barnevelt,  and  owner  of  this  house  which  the 
Estates  had  rented  for  the  King  of  Bohemia's  use,  stood 
by  the  Queen,  and  the  talk  was  of  homely  details — of  how 
Mevrouw  counselled  her  Majesty  to  change  Prince  Hal's 
sleeping-room  to  another  apartment  overlooking  the  gar- 
den ;  and  how  in  the  autumn,  when  the  damp  mists  rose 
from  the  canals,  it  would  be  wise  to  send  the  children 
away  from  the  Hague  for  a  few  weeks.  Though  the 
Queen  answered  courteously,  a  sense  that  her  Majesty's 
thoughts  were  really  elsewhere  froze  the  words  on  the 
good  lady's  lips.  Amalia  Solms,  standing  near  the  open 
window,  was  conversing  with  Frederik  Hendrik,  the 
Stadthouder's  brother. 

"  I  trust  the  oppressive  warmth  of  this  day  hath  not 
wearied  the  gracious  Countess,"  he  was  saying, 

"  Nay,  I  find  the  Hague  pleasantly  cool  after  the 
furious  heat  of  Prague,"  she  made  answer. 

"  I  am  but  too  happy  if  your  ladyship  finds  the  Hague 
agreeable." 

Such  was  the  courting  of  these  most  worthy  persons. 
The  human  moths  of  the  world  love  dully,  but  their  grey 
words  are  doubtless  poetry  to  them.  Jacob  Cats  was 
entertaining  a  merry  group  of  ladies  at  the  farther  side  of 
the  parlour.  He  told  them  quaint,  homely  proverbs  of 
which  his  mind  was  the  storehouse,  and  his  kindly,  wise 
brown  eyes  were  alight  with  benignant  amusement  while 
he  stroked  his  well-trimmed,  pointed  white  beard.  The 
King  stood  with  Sir  Dudley  Carlton,  Sir  Francis  Nether- 
sole,  and  a  few  Dutch  gentlemen ;  but  his  Majesty's 
random  answers  cast  a  chill  upon  the  talk,  and  the  guests 
began  to  wonder  why  her  Majesty  did  not  give  the  signal 
to  repair  to  supper. 

"  What  is  wrong  ?  "  whispered  Lady  Carlton  to  Mistress 
Alison  Hay.  "  Has  the  cook  let  the  supper  viands  fall 
into  the  fire,  or  has  the  fish  swum  back  to  Scheveningen  ?  *' 

"Nay,  Dame  Carlton,"   the   girl  answered,  laughing, 


264  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"but  there  is  another  guest  invited  to  sup — Duke  Christian 
of  Brunswick." 

The  good  lady  started.  "  The  Halberstadter  ? "  she 
said  incredulously.  "  Well,  lack-a-day  !  An  we  wait  for 
him  we  shall  sup  at  breakfast- time  !  He  is  doubtless  too 
busy  with  some  evil-doing  to  remember  the  hour  of  the 
Queen's  supper." 

As  she  spoke  the  door  opened,  and  there  entered  a 
tall,  svelt  figure,  in  a  green  velvet  tunic  richly  embroidered 
with  gold.  Duke  Christian  had  a  clear,  olive  complexion, 
and  wore  neither  beard  nor  moustache ;  his  lips  were  full, 
but  they  closed  so  firmly  that  in  repose  his  mouth  seemed 
thin  and  cruel.  He  wore  his  brown  hair  cut  short,  and 
in  spite  of  the  mode,  no  curling  love-locks  fell  on  the 
plain,  if  delicate,  linen  of  his  ruff.  It  was  a  proud, 
almost  forbidding,  face ;  the  nose  a  trifle  thick,  but  the 
nostrils  were  delicate  and  sensitive  like  those  of  a  fiery, 
well-bred  horse.  The  deep  brown  eyes  were  strangely 
sombre  beneath  the  strongly  marked  black  eyebrows. 

He  came  into  the  room  quietly  with  a  swift,  light  step ; 
then  pausing,  glanced  round  him.  King  Friedrich  hurried 
forward  and  greeted  him  warmly,  even  ostentatiously,  for 
his  Majesty  was  ill  at  ease.  The  Halberstadter  bowed  low 
before  this  dethroned  King. 

"  There  are  few  greater  honours  than  to  be  your 
Majesty's  guest,"  he  said. 

"  Cousin,  it  is  a  happy  day  for  me  when  you  honour 
my  poor  house,"  answered  Friedrich,  laying  his  hand 
affectionately  on  the  Brunswicker's  shoulder.  He  led 
him  up  to  the  Queen. 

"  May  I  present  your  Majesty's  close  kinsman,  Duke 
Christian  of  Brunswick  ? "  he  said  in  a  formal  tone. 

"  I  greet  your  Highness  well,"  returned  Elizabeth  Stuart 
coldly,  and  without  vouchsafing  him  a  glance,  she  held 
out  her  hand  stiffly.  The  Halberstadter,  bending  low, 
kissed  her  finger-tips  reverently,  almost  timidly. 

"  Madame  rna  cousine,  it  has  been  the  dream  of  my  life 
to  pay  you  homage,"  he  said  in  a  low,  vibrant  voice.  She 
drew  away  her  hand. 


CHRISTIAN,  DUKE  OK  BRUNSWICK. 

From  the  painting  by  Miereveldt  in  the  Earl  of  Craven's  Collection  at  Combe  Abbey 


HOLLAND  265 

"  I  trust  your  mother,  my  honoured  aunt  of  Brunswick, 
is  well,  Bishop  ? "  she  said  distantly.  He  started. 

"  I  can  lay  no  claim  to  clerical  dignity,  rnadame,"  he 
said  quickly.  "  I  thank  your  Majesty,  my  mother  is  well. 
Did  she  know  the  honour  which  hath  befallen  me  this 
day,  she  would  have  sent  your  Majesty  right  loving 
greeting."  The  Queen  bowed  coldly. 

"  When  you  return  into  Germany,  sir,  I  pray  you  offer 
her  Highness  my  humble  duty,"  she  said,  and,  turning 
away,  she  called  to  the  painter  Mierevelt. 

"  Come,  mijnheer,  and  tell  me  what  new  marvels  you 
have  painted.  Ah  !  instead  of  killing  men,  as  soldiers  do, 
how  grand  it  is  to  make  them  live  for  ever  by  the  magic 
of  art ! "  Her  whole  being  seemed  to  have  changed,  as  in 
a  flash.  When  she  had  spoken  with  the  Halberstadter 
she  had  been  haughty  almost  to  insolence  ;  with  Mierevelt 
she  was  gracious,  young,  friendly.  The  Haberstadter 
stood  silent.  His  eyes  had  grown  hard ;  they  glistened 
like  wet  pebbles  from  the  bed  of  a  mountain  stream. 
After  a  moment  he  turned  away  and  greeted  Mevrouw  van 
der  Myle  and  Lady  Carlton.  They  responded  nervously, 
yet  with  that  fluttered  interest  which  women  accord  to 
the  man  of  evil  repute.  Jacob  Cats  smiled. 

"  The  virtuous  dames  are  always  flattered  by  the  notice 
of  the  vicious  man;  it  proves  to  them  that  they  are 
virtuous  by  choice,  not  by  necessity,"  he  said  to  Nether- 
sole  who  was  standing  near  him. 

At  this  moment  the  doors  of  her  Majesty's  supper 
parlour  were  thrown  open. 

"  Will  you  lead  her  Majesty,  cousin  ? "  said  the  King, 
laying  a  friendly  touch  on  the  Halberstadter's  shoulder. 
In  chill  silence  Elizabeth  Stuart  gave  her  hand  to  Duke 
Christian,  and  with  courtly  grace  they  passed  into  the 
supper  parlour  followed  by  the  guests. 

"  Mijnheer  Jacob  shall  sit  near  me  ! "  her  Majesty  cried, 
as  she  rose  from  the  profound  courtesy  she  had  swept  to 
the  Halberstadter  when  he  had  brought  her  to  the  long, 
narrow  supper  table. 


266  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Come,  oh  !  maker  of  proverbs  !  and  beguile  my  weari- 
ness with  your  wisdom,"  she  added,  laughing. 

Amalia  Solms  and  Frederik  Hendrik  were  seated  to- 
gether, exchanging  the  commonplaces  which  are  the 
mating  songs  of  such  natures.  The  King  sat  opposite  Eliza- 
beth Stuart,  Frederik  Hendrik  on  his  right,  and  Mevrouw 
van  der  Myle  on  his  left,  Sir  Dudley  Carlton,  Mistress 
Allison,  Nethersole,  Mistress  Clovelly,  Mistress  Stanley, 
several  Dutch  gentlemen,  the  French  envoy — a  small, 
rotund  personage  weighted  with  all  the  importance  of 
his  busy  mediocrity — Mierevelt  and  my  Lady  Phyllis. 
The  Queen,  turned  towards  Jacob  Cats,  seemed  to  have 
eyes  and  ears  but  for  him;  and  the  Halberstadter,  on 
her  right,  was  left  to  amuse  himself  as  best  he  could, 
for  my  Lady  Carlton,  seated  on  his  right,  avoided  him 
nervously,  as  though  to  speak  with  him  would  have 
spelled  defilement  to  the  neat  honesty  of  her  shrivelled, 
boxlike  bosom,  so  carefully  enshrined  in  the  stiff  white 
satin  of  her  discreet  corsage.  She  spoke  in  English 
with  Sir  Francis  Nethersole,  discussing  English  friends  or 
mutual  acquaintances,  as  though  to  have  known  my  Lady 
This  or  my  Lord  That  was  so  intimate  a  bond  between 
Nethersole  and  her,  as  to  be  a  barrier  unscalable  by  the 
benighted  foreigner  who  sat  near  them. 

Sometimes  the  King's  melancholy  eyes  strayed  ques- 
tioningly  to  Elizabeth  Stuart.  She  was  unlike  herself 
to-night,  unsmiling,  formal,  he  thought.  Ah !  how  irk- 
some women  were,  to  be  sure,  with  their  moods,  their 
whimsies,  their  capricious  condemnations  of  men  !  After 
all,  what  did  women  know  of  a  man's  life  ?  It  was  ridi- 
culous for  them  to  judge,  he  argued  to  himself.  Hus- 
band-like, in  order  to  improve  an  awkward  situation, 
Friedrich  assumed  a  condemnatory  and  aggrieved  manner, 
and  succeeded  thereby  in  permeating  the  already  chill 
atmosphere  with  an  undefined  sense  of  discomfort.  Feel- 
ing this  tacit  hostility,  this  unspoken  disapproval,  Eliza- 
beth Stuart  responded  by  a  contradictory  mood.  Throw- 
ing off  her  unwonted  formality,  she  became  more  than 
usual  gay  and  full  of  talk,  but  she  continued  to  address 


HOLLAND  267 

her  remarks  to  Jacob  Cats  or  across  the  table  to 
Mevrouw  van  der  Myle,  ignoring  both  the  King  and  the 
Halberstadter. 

Now  his  Majesty  addressed  the  Halberstadter,  and  they 
were  soon  deep  in  conversation  anent  military  matters. 
Throughout  supper  Elizabeth  Stuart  was  aware  of  her 
neighbour's  deep  voice.  There  was  something  singularly 
winning  in  its  quietness.  Angrily  she  reflected  that  it 
was  unmannerly  of  the  King — really  churlish  of  the 
Halberstadter — thus  to  discuss  tactics  and  strategics 
before  her. 

"  These  German  gallants  think  a  woman  cannot  com- 
prehend anything  that  their  own  addled  pates  have 
learned,"  she  said  sharply  to  Mijnheer  Cats. 

"  Better  that  than  to  be  ruled  as  slavishly  as  we  Dutch- 
men are  by  our  wives,  perchance,"  he  answered,  laughing. 
"  Why,  madame,  'tis  a  very  tyranny  the  good  dames 
wield  here." 

"  Can  there  be  no  unity,  no  well-balanced  friendship 
between  man  and  woman  ? "  she  asked,  suddenly  serious, 
half-ashamed  of  her  hasty  speech,  for  she  knew  well  enough 
that  she  ruled  King  Friedrich  absolutely. 

"  Nay,  while  the  world  lasts  there  will  be  but  one  head 
in  a  house  ;  if  you  put  two  rulers  in  one  kingdom  the 
throne  will  soon  be  demolished  !  One  must  rule,  madame  ; 
either  the  man  must  wear  the  petticoats  and  the  dame 
don  the  breeks,  or  they  must  keep  to  their  own  roles. 
There  must  be  a  man  and  a  woman  in  each  house,  but  God 
knows  which  of  'em  is  which  sometimes,"  he  said,  smiling. 
She  laughed. 

"  Well,  I  vow  I  will  never  talk  military  tactics,  be  I 
man  or  woman  ! "  she  said. 

"  People  who  practise  home  tactics  seldom  discuss 
them,"  he  answered  shrewdly.  "  Show  me  the  dame  who 
talks  of  gallantry,  and  I'll  answer  for  it  she  hath  ne'er 
been  courted  !  I  warrant  your  Majesty  is  a  finer  strategian, 
off  the  battlefield,  than  any  of  us  are  upon  it ! " 

Against  her  will  Elizabeth  Stuart,  though  she  bantered 
thus  with  Cats,  heard  the  Halberstadter's  quiet  voice  all 


268  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

the  time,  and  though  she  tried  studiously  to  avert  her 
eyes,  ever  and  anon  she  glanced  at  his  hand  which  he 
often  laid  upon  the  table.  She  noted  how  large  and  strong 
it  looked ;  marvelled  at  its  whiteness  and  the  blue  veins 
which  showed  so  plainly  on  it,  at  the  uncommon  short- 
ness of  the  thumb  accompanying  those  long,  pointed, 
nervous  fingers.  Through  the  strength  of  the  hand  there 
seemed  to  be  a  curious  delicacy  and  refinement.  She  told 
herself  that  there  was  something  cruel  and  brutal  about 
it;  and  a  little  shiver  ran  through  her — a  shiver  of  disgust, 
as  she  thought. 

"  Madame  ma  cousine,"  came  the  quiet  voice,  "  may 
I  drink  to  you  ? " 

She  started  and  felt  an  unaccustomed  flush  invade  her 
cheeks  and  mount  to  her  brow.  She  turned  to  the 
Halberstadter.  He  was  bending  towards  her  with  his 
glass  in  his  hand.  Suddenly  she  was  ashamed.  She  had 
behaved  like  a  sullen,  unmannerly  child,  and  now  she  was 
blushing  like  a  silly  hoyden,  she  thought. 

"  Monseigneur,  let  us  drink  together  to  another  Eliza- 
beth, to  your  noble  mother  Elizabeth  of  Brunswick,"  she 
said,  her  habitual  charm  of  manner  conquering  her  ill 
humour. 

"  To  my  mother ! "  he  said,  "  and  to  my  Queen  ! "  he 
added  earnestly. 

She  took  her  glass,  and,  according  to  the  German  mode, 
held  it  to  his  and  the  brims  touched  with  a  gentle  clink ; 
then,  as  she  raised  the  glass  to  her  lips,  their  eyes  met  for 
the  first  time,  met  and  lingered  for  a  full  moment  as  they 
drank. 

"  I  thank  your  Majesty ! "  he  said  formally  and  coldly  ; 
but  she  noticed  how  his  strong,  right  hand  trembled  as 
he  set  down  his  glass,  and  how  his  left  hand,  which  lay 
on  the  table  near  her,  was  clenched  so  fiercely  that  the 
blue  veins  stood  out  and  the  knuckles  grew  yellow  with 
the  force  of  his  grip. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE    SUPPER    IN    THE   WOOD 

"  Que  se  passait-il  dans  nos  ames  ? 
Amour  !  amour  ! " 

DURING  the  days  following  the  supper  the  Halber- 
stadter  was  a  constant  visitor  at  the  house  on  the 
Lange  Voorhout,  and  the  Queen  raised  no  protest 
at  his  presence,  though,  save  the  words  of  formal  greeting, 
she  rarely  spoke  to  him;  and  to  King  Friedrich  she 
never  mentioned  his  name  without  some  scornful 
allusion  to  his  ill  fame.  It  was :  "  Your  Majesty's  dear 
friend,  the  housebreaker,"  or  "  Your  noble  companion,  the 
burgher's  terror,"  "That  lover  of  orgies,  my  reputable 
kinsman,"  and  the  like.  To  her  ladies  she  vowed  she 
disapproved  of  the  Halberstiidter. 

"  Think  you  that  I  am  deceived  by  his  quiet  manner  ? 
He  may  be  mighty  civil,  but  some  day  we  shall  see  a 
pretty  scene  enacted  by  his  fierce  temper,"  she  would  say. 
One  day  a  story  came  to  her  ears  which,  she  informed 
Friedrich,  proved  the  Halberstadter  to  be  a  desperado  and 
not  a  fit  person  to  enter  a  decent  house.  It  was  recounted 
how,  chancing  to  be  sitting  in  the  "  Golden  Head  "  tavern 
opposite  the  Halstraatje,  he  had  watched  a  crowd  of 
bravos  quarreling;  it  had  been  a  common  drunken 
revel  of  no  account,  and  surely  no  affair  of  his.  How- 
ever, it  was  said  that,  unable  to  resist  the  amusement  of 
a  brawl,  he  had  dashed  into  the  group  and  had  laid  hands 
on  one  of  the  men,  who  had  turned  on  the  intruder  with 
the  sudden  fury  of  the  drunken ;  whereupon  the  Halber- 
stadter had  shot  the  man  down  in  cold  blood,  and, 
having  thus  sated  his  horrible  lust,  had  walked  calmly 
away  whistling  a  tune.  This  exploit  had  occurred  since 


270  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

his  friendship  with  King  Friedrich,  and  her  Majesty 
vowed  that  she  would  tolerate  his  presence  no  more. 

"  But,  dearling,  do  not  condemn  a  man  for  the  sake  of 
an  unproven  story,"  the  King  said.  "  Ask  him  yourself 
what  he  did.  I  make  sure  it  is  only  a  trumped-up 
scandal.  Ask  him,  sweet  Bess,  I  pray  you." 

"  And,  if  he  cannot  disprove  this  sorry  tale,  will  you  vow 
me  he  shall  enter  this  house  no  more  ? "  she  said.  The 
King  sighed;  he  had  taken  a  marvelous  liking  for  the 
Halberstadter,  but,  as  usual,  he  gave  in  to  Elizabeth. 

"  If  this  thing  is  true,  I  will  have  naught  to  do  with 
Christian  of  Brunswick,"  he  said. 

That  evening  there  was  a  ball  at  the  Binnenhof,  and 
after  the  second  pavyn  her  Majesty  withdrew  into  the 
deep  embrasure  of  one  of  the  windows  overlooking  the 
Vijver.  Mistress  Alison  Hay  and  several  of  the  Queen's 
other  ladies  followed ;  not  my  lady  of  Solms,  for  she  was 
talking  with  Frederik  Hendrik  as  usual. 

"  See  the  future  of  Holland,"  said  the  Queen,  laughing. 
"  Our  dear  Amalia  will  make  a  fitting  chatelaine  for  this 
most  solid  and  comfortable  Binnenhof." 

"  There  will  be  wedding-bells,  I  think,  indeed,  madame  ! 
Lord !  how  wearily  sober  a  Court  'twill  be  ! "  said  Mistress 
Alison  maliciously. 

"  Nay,  be  not  too  harsh ;  they  will  make  a  goodly 
couple.  Every  kettle  hath  its  lid,  and  'twould  be  but  a 
sorry  thing  to  put  a  kettle  lid  on  a  porcelain  jar !  It 
often  happens,  alack !  but  then  both  jar  and  lid  are  ill  at 
ease,"  the  Queen  said  lightly.  She  glanced  round  the 
panelled  room,  and  her  eyes  fell  on  the  Halberstadter, 
who  was  standing  silently  leaning  against  the  door-post. 
His  face  was  grave  and  pale,  and  his  eyes  were  fixed 
on  Elizabeth  Stuart  with  something  so  unutterably  sad 
in  their  steady  gaze  that  she  felt  a  quick  pang  of  com- 
passion for  this  "  wild  desperado."  As  her  eyes  met  his, 
he  started  and  turned  away. 

"  Alison,  I  would  speak  with  Duke  Christian  of  Bruns- 
wick. Ask  him  to  come  to  me  here,"  she  said.  The  girl 
looked  surprised,  but  went  on  her  errand  without  comment. 


THE  SUPPER  IN  THE  WOOD  271 

"  I  have  that  to  say  to  my  cousin  which  only  four  ears 
may  hear,"  the  Queen  said  to  her  other  ladies,  dismissing 
them.  She  was  alone  when  the  Halberstadter  came  to  her. 

"Your  Highness  will  marvel  that  I  have  summoned 
you,"  she  said  abruptly,  and  fixed  her  eyes  full  on  his 
face.  He  made  no  response  save  for  a  deep  bow. 

"  I  have  somewhat  to  say,  and  on  your  answer  depends 
whether  or  no  his  Majesty  and  I  can  offer  you  hospitality 
in  the  future.  Have  I  your  Highness's  word  that  I  shall 
hear  the  truth  ? " 

"  Madame,  among  the  sorry  names  that  your  Majesty 
has  heard  given  me,  has  the  title  of  liar  been  meted  out  ? " 
he  said  coldly,  but  his  eyes  had  grown  hard,  and  she 
knew  that  no  man  on  earth  would  have  gone  unpunished 
for  speaking  thus  to  him. 

"  Have  I  your  word,  cousin  ? "  she  repeated  firmly, 
though  it  cost  her  an  effort  to  steady  her  voice.  The 
man  frightened  her,  she  realised  with  a  sense  of  surprise. 

'•Your  Majesty  has  my  word  of  honour,"  he  said 
quietly. 

"  I  have  heard  the  history  of  your  brawl  a  few  days 
since  at  the  '  Golden  Head '  tavern.  I  ask  your  High- 
ness if  it  is  true  ? "  she  said. 

"  Perfectly  true,  inadame,"  he  answered  calmly. 

"  You  dare  tell  me  openly  that  you  interfered  for  no 
reason  in  a  drunken  quarrel ;  that  you  shot  a  man  in  cold 
blood,  and  went  home  whistling  a  merry  tune  ? "  she 
said.  "  You  dare  tell  me  this  ?  And  you  came  to  my 
house  an  hour  afterwards  and  were  treated  like  an 
honest  gentleman  ? " 

"  I  interfered  in  a  drunken  quarrel,  madame ;  and  I 
shot  a  man  dead  before  the  '  Golden  Head '  tavern,"  he 
said  proudly;  "but  neither  did  I  do  so  without  reason, 
nor  in  cold  blood.  The  man  had  just  beaten  his  dog  to 
death,  and  I  shot  him  as  men  shoot  a  mad  dog.  I  trust 
I  may  never  see  such  a  dastard  act  and  my  blood  stay 
cold ;  and  I  know  I  shall  kill  any  man  who  does  so  foul 
a  thing  when  I  am  by." 

"  That  is  a  far  different  tale,  sir  cousin  ! "  she  cried,  with 


272  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

flashing  eyes.  "  I,  too,  would  kill — "  she  stopped  short. 
"  Was  the  dog  dead  ?  Poor  beast,  poor  beast !  "  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"  Yes,  madame,"  he  said  coldly,  and  with  a  profound 
bow  he  turned  and  left  her. 

For  a  few  moments  the  Queen  remained  alone  in  the 
embrasure,  her  thoughts  were  in  a  turmoil.  The  Halber- 
stadter's  words  had  struck  that  chord  which  no  Stuart 
could  resist — the  chord  of  their  passionate  love  of  animals, 
and  their  generous  wrath  at  whosoever  lifted  a  cruel 
hand  against  the  beloved  dumb  servitors  of  man.  She 
knew  that  never  again  could  she  treat  Christian  of  Brims- 
wick  as  an  outcast ;  no  man  who  felt  thus  could  be  entirely 
vile.  Then  in  a  flash  she  remembered  how  Friedrich  had 
wantonly  ridden  his  horse  to  death 

She  hurried  into  the  crowd  in  the  dancing-hall. 
"  Come !  let  us  dance  a  Branle  &  la  Haye !  We've  had 
enough  of  the  solemn  pavyns  !  I  pray  you,  my  Lord 
Stadthouder  ! "  she  cried,  turning  to  Maurice  of  Orange,  "  I 
pray  you,  order  a  boisterous  roundel !  I  am  weary  of  the 
stately  measures ! " 

As  June  wore  on,  the  Queen  seemed  to  have  grown 
strangely  shy  of  Christian  of  Brunswick,  but  her  hostility 
of  manner  changed  to  a  distant  friendliness,  varied  even 
by  a  half-bantering,  capricious  tone.  She  often  addressed 
him  as  though  he  Avere  really  Bishop  of  Halberstadt, 
calling  him  "  Hochwlirden,"  and  tormenting  him  about  his 
pastoral  duties.  The  Halberstadter  at  first  answered  her, 
explaining  that  he  was  only  the  administrator  of  the 
bishopric,  and  that  he  had  nought  to  do  with  church 
matters ;  but,  seeing  she  paid  no  heed  to  his  explanations, 
he  ceased  to  respond.  She  noted  that  the  bantering 
fretted  him,  for  his  brown  face  flushed  and  his  eyes  took 
that  hard  look  "  like  brown-leather  buttons,"  as  she  told 
the  King  one  day  when  describing  how  the  Halberstadter 
appeared  when  he  was  angry.  It  was  evident  that  his  dis- 
pleasure added  zest  to  her  mischievous  spirit,  for  she  rallied 
him  the  more.  Yet  she  vowed  that  she  disapproved  of 


THE  SUPPER  IN  THE  WOOD  273 

the    Halberstadter,  albeit  she  never  wearied  of  hearing 
accounts  of  his  wild  life. 

"  What  was  that  history  concerning  the  husband  who 
was  flung  out  of  the  window  ? "  she  would  say,  and  then 
they  told  her  again  how  Christian  had  been  surprised 
with  the  wife  of  the  Burgomaster  of  Haarlem,  and  how 
this  reverend  personage,  when  he  had  dared  upbraid  his 
faithful  spouse,  had  been  heaved  out  of  his  own  bed- 
chamber window  by  the  Halberstadter.  The  story  went 
that  Christian  had  been  heard  to  say  he  would  serve  any 
man  in  the  same  fashion  who  dared  offer  insult  to  a 
woman  in  his  presence,  and  that  because  a  poor  dame  was 
mated  with  a  brute  it  was  no  reason  for  a  cavalier  to  stand 
by  and  hear  her  affronted.  Still,  it  was  an  ugly  tale, 
though  there  were  darker  ones  concerning  him.  Never- 
theless, it  seemed  that  Elizabeth  Stuart  took  a  veritable 
delight  in  hearing  of  the  pranks  played  by  her  kinsman ; 
and  the  King  had  vowed  him  a  warm  admiration  and 
friendship.  Christian  was  all  that  he,  Friedrich,  would 
have  wished  to  have  been,  and  the  reports  of  the  Halber- 
stadter's  violence  only  served  to  increase  the  radiance  of 
the  aureole  he  wore  in  the  King's  vision ;  for  Friedrich, 
being  incurably  mild,  adored  violence.  Yet  to  pacify  the 
Queen  he  was  eager  in  his  refutation  of  the  scandalous 
histories.  But  the  Queen  frowned ;  she  did  not  want  the 
histories  to  be  refuted ;  she  certainly  disapproved  of  the 
Halberstadter. 

Towards  midsummer  evil  tidings  came  from  Prague, 
and  into  the  comfortable  commonplace  of  the  life  at 
the  Hague  there  crept  a  sense  of  brooding  disaster  and 
sadness.  The  Emperor  had  promised  full  pardon  to  the 
Bohemians,  if  they  laid  down  their  swords  and  returned  to 
their  allegiance  to  the  Empire.  No  hint  of  impending 
retribution  was  given,  and  though  Thurn,  Hohenlohe,  and 
several  other  Czechish  gentlemen  had  deemed  a  few  years' 
voluntary  exile  to  be  the  safer  course,  many  had  remained 
on  their  estates  in  Bohemia  trusting  in  Ferdinand's  promise. 
At  first  no  harsh  measures  had  been  adopted  towards  the 
"  repentant  rebels,"  as  they  were  called,  but  then,  without 

S 


274  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

warning,  they  had  been  summoned  before  an  Imperial 
tribunal  at  Prague,  where  they  were  accused  of  high  treason. 
Old  Schlick,  my  lord  of  Czernin,  Budova,  Harrant  of 
Polzic,  and  a  score  of  others  including  Doctor  Jansenius,  the 
scholar  who  had  written  King  Friedrich's  pamphlets  con- 
cerning the  Bohemian  crown,  were  condemned  to  torture 
and  death ;  and  though  they  affirmed  that  they  were  con- 
quered foes,  not  traitorous  conspirators,  the  cruel  sentences 
were  consummated  on  the  market-place  at  Prague.  They 
died  bravely,  one  and  all,  and  though  the  Emperor  had 
caused  a  hundred  drummers  to  be  stationed  round  the 
scaffold  to  drown  by  their  noise  the  last  speeches  of  the 
Bohemian  patriots,  still  some  faithful  ones  managed  to 
hear  and  had  delivered  these  last  messages  of  loving 
loyalty  to  King  Friedrich  at  the  Hague. 

A  more  terrible  situation  can  scarce  be  imagined  for  an 
honest  man  than  that  into  which  Friedrich  was  forced. 
Here  were  men  dying  for  him  ;  here  was  an  army  under 
Mansfeld  in  the  field  in  his  name  ;  and  here  he  was  bound 
to  inaction  by  the  promise  extorted  from  him  by  King 
James  that  he  would  not  undertake  a  fresh  campaign 
while  the  ambassadors  in  Vienna  were  negotiating  a 
compromise.  Poor  Winter  King !  He  was  doomed 
to  the  agony  of  uselessness.  All  his  life  he  had  had 
occupation — he  had  called  it  work — with  State  affairs,  and 
now  he  was  face  to  face  with  the  emptiness  of  his  own 
soul,  that  emptiness  which  idleness  alone  can  fully  reveal 
to  us.  Added  to  this  was  the  bitter  knowledge  that  the 
whole  world  either  laughed  at  him,  sneered  at  him,  or 
blamed  him.  It  was  said  that  he  had  lighted  a  fire  which 
consumed  his  friends,  and  that  he  stayed  afar  in  safety 
and  watched  them  burn.  The  flood  of  lampoons  and 
caricatures  taught  him  what  was  said  of  him,  he  could 
not  escape  knowledge  of  them,  for  they  were  nailed  on 
every  wall  in  the  Hague,  and  lightheartedly  the  populace 
sang  the  refrains  of  the  ribald,  mocking  songs  in  the  narrow 
streets.  Elizabeth  Stuart,  if  she  still  caused  the  printed 
sheets  to  be  brought  to  her,  hid  them  now  or  did  not 
mention  them  to  Friedrich.  Indeed,  although  she  raged 


THE  SUPPER  IN  THE  WOOD  275 

and  sorrowed  at  the  Bohemians'  cruel  fate,  it  seemed  far  off 
to  her  just  then.  It  was  a  new  world  to  her,  all  was  new 
— she — Friedrich — the  glory  of  summer — all  had  been 
reborn,  she  knew  not  why.  Though  there  were  clouds 
enough  to  overshadow  her,  though  she  played  her  part 
with  dignity  and  fitting  thought  for  all,  yet  it  was  as 
though  she  had  never  lived  before.  She  told  herself 
that  it  was  thus  with  her  because  the  human  heart  reverts 
to  joyousness  and  youth,  all  the  more  strongly  after  an 
o'erdarkened  spell. 

Her  Majesty  of  Bohemia  deigned  to  accept  the  hospi' 
tality  of  Mevrouw  van  Half  Wassenaar  at  an  alfresco 
supper  beneath  the  beech-trees  of  the  Bosch.  Far  from 
the  town  of  the  Hague,  deep  in  the  wood,  was  an  avenue 
of  beeches,  whose  hoary  age  recalled  the  legend  that  this 
was  the  sacred  grove  which  had  surrounded  a  Roman 
temple  long  before  the  noble  plaisance,  the  Bosch,  had 
become  the  ill-famed  Schalkenbosch,  so  named  because 
it  had  been  the  haunt  of  robber  bands  and  outlaws.  But 
in  the  year  of  grace  sixteen  hundred  and  twenty-one  the 
Bosch,  now  a  wooded  park,  had  become  the  resort  of 
the  fashionable  world  at  the  Hague.  The  burghers  and 
their  portly  spouses  preferred  to  pace  at  their  leisure  in 
the  alleys  beneath  the  lime-trees  on  the  Lange  Voorhout, 
watching  the  unwieldy  carosses  of  the  great  lumber  down 
the  centre  drive — those  quaint  carosses  with  their  prancing 
arch-necked  steeds  decked  with  an  amplitude  of  emblazoned 
trappings  and  with  nodding  plumes  upon  their  aristocratic 
heads ;  the  carosses  with  lumpy  leather  tops  and  leather 
curtains  instead  of  glass  in  their  windows,  with  finely 
painted  panels,  and  with  small  front  wheels  and  enormous 
spindly  hind  wheels,  whose  disproportion  caused  the  clumsy 
vehicles  to  sway  and  jolt  over  the  uneven  road.  Yet  who 
was  not  proud  to  own  such  an  equipage  ?  It  was  the 
latest  mode,  and  so  costly  that  only  the  wealthy  great 
could  dream  of  possessing  such  a  conveyance.  The 
burghers'  dames  still  went  a-travelling  safely  strapped 
behind  stout  riders  on  trustworthy,  cautious  nags,  and  they 


276  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

viewed  with  awe  and  delight  the  caresses  thundering  down 
the  Lange  Voorhout.  Thus  the  Bosch  was  left  to  the 
ladies  and  gallants,  and  the  shady  glades  were  generally 
peopled  by  a  gaily  clad  throng  of  courtly  personages. 

And  here  on  that  summer  evening  Mevrouw  van  Half 
Wassenaar's  alfresco  feast  was  to  take  place.  The  tables 
were  spread  beneath  the  beech-trees,  in  whose  boughs 
twinkled  tiny  lamps,  while,  discreetly  hidden  in  the  wood, 
musicians  discoursed  soft  melodies.  The  guests  arrived, 
a  galaxy  of  fashion,  gentlemen  with  the  newest  patterns 
of  embroidered  doublets  sent  to  them  from  Paris,  with 
the  latest  mode  of  broad  Spanish  hat,  the  last-invented 
trick  of  fastening  the  Flemish  boots  around  the  knee ; 
ladies  who  had  learned  that  the  fardingale  was  banished 
from  the  world,  who  knew  that  none  could  appear  now 
save  in  voluminous  flowing  skirts ;  that  the  rebatoe  was  a 
moribund  monster,  and  that  in  Paris  the  deep  turned- 
down  lace  collar  was  the  sign  of  a  lady,  not  only  of 
quality,  but  of  fashion. 

Now  her  Majesty  of  Bohemia's  carosse  swung  down  the 
avenue — alas  !  not  her  Majesty's  own  carosse,  for,  as  all  the 
world  knew,  the  Winter  Queen,  albeit  she  kept  a  stud  of 
horses,  loving  them  too  well  to  be  bereft  of  these  at  least, 
still  she  owned  no  coaches,  though  by  her  uncle  Maurice 
of  Orange's  liberality  and  courtesy  she  had  the  use  of 
the  Stadthouder's  equipages.  But  what  mattered  it  ? 
Her  Majesty  was  only  making  a  short  sojourn  in  Holland, 
pending  her  triumphal  return  to  the  splendours  of  Prague 
or  of  Heidelberg,  And  why  remember  unpleasant  trifles 
— war,  death,  poverty,  and  the  like — on  such  a  summer 
evening  and  at  such  a  merry  feast  ?  Sure,  her  Majesty 
had  banished  care ;  for  how  radiant  she  looked  in  her 
ivory  satin  gown,  with  the  large  lace  collar  which  fell 
away  and  showed  the  pearl-like  whiteness  of  her  throat 
and  bosom,  where  the  blue  veins  traced  so  wondrous  a 
poem  of  youth.  Her  brown  eyes  were  full  of  light ;  it 
seemed  to  the  Halberstadter,  as  he  bowed  over  her  hand 
when  she  alighted  from  her  coach,  that  never  had  he  seen 
her  so  beautiful — and  that  light  in  her  eyes  ? 


THE  SUPPER  IN  THE  WOOD  277 

"  Most  reverend  cousin  !  Ah  !  what  a  glorious  feast, 
and  yet  methinks  these  are  worldly  doings  for  a  bishop  ! 
Mevrouw  van  Wassenaar,  you  have  magicked  a  fairyland 
here !  Ah !  see,  there  go  Amalia  and  my  Lord  of 
Orange  ! "  She  was  lighthearted  as  a  young  maiden  this 
night,  and,  God  wot,  her  twenty-five  summers  were  no 
heavy  burden  to  her.  She  seemed  the  youngest  of  all 
her  ladies,  though  the  quaint  wisdom  of  her  quips  told 
that  her  wit  had  grown  more  subtle  by  the  teaching  of 
experience  and  of  sorrow. 

Even  the  King  was  merry  that  night,  and  he  paid  court 
to  the  ladies  with  so  good  a  grace  that  they  vowed  him  a 
pretty  gallant. 

Soon  the  supper  ended,  and  from  the  wood  there  came 
the  lilt  of  a  galliard  tune.  It  was  the  same  melody  which 
the  wandering  musicians  had  played  at  the  Star  Palace 
scarcely  a  year  since.  For  a  moment  the  Queen's  gay 
spirit  drooped. 

"  Ah  !  God  !  why  must  they  let  me  hear  that  melody 
to-day  ?  "  she  murmured  ;  "just  to-day  ?  " 

"  And  why  not  just  to-day,  sweet  madame  ?  "  said  my 
Lady  Phyllis  wonderingly.  "  We  can  never  forget ! "  The 
girl's  voice  grew  husky,  and  her  eyes  were  veiled  in  tears. 

"  We  must  ever  remember,  and  I  would  not  wish  to 
forget,"  said  the  Queen.  "  And  yet — and  yet " 

"  Madame  ma  cousine,  will  you  pace  a  measure  with 
me  ? "  said  a  deep,  quiet  voice.  She  started. 

"  Ah,  sir  !  I  would  not  dance  this  galliard,"  she  said. 
They  stood  together  beneath  the  beech-trees ;  my  Lady 
Phyllis  had  wandered  away,  the  other  ladies  were  dancing, 
the  King  and  a  group  of  gallants  were  making  merry 
near  the  supper-table.  Elizabeth  Stuart  and  the  Hal- 
berstadter  were  alone. 

"  Your  Majesty  hath  grown  sad  since  this  galliard  hath 
rung  out,"  he  said. 

"  How  know  you  that  ?  "  she  answered  haughtily.  She 
drew  herself  a  little  further  from  him ;  her  whole  being 
seemed  to  say  that  her  sadness  or  her  joy  was  naught  to 
him,  yet  she  knew  that  she  awaited  his  answer  impatiently. 


278  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

As  he  remained  silent  she  glanced  at  him.  He  stood 
beside  her  immovable  as  a  statue  ;  she  could  only  see  his 
profile,  for  he  was  looking  straight  before  him.  The 
galliard  ended,  and  still  they  stood  there  silently. 

"  Madame,  I  pray  you  pace  this  measure  with  me  1 "  he 
said  as  another  tune  rang  out ;  "  or  is  it  your  Majesty's 
will  that  I  should  bring  another  gallant  to  crave  this 
honour  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  she  answered ;  then  again  her  mischievous  spirit 
returned,  and  she  cried,  "  and  yet,  Sir  Cousin,  since 
when  do  reverend  pastors  dance  ?  Your  mitre  would  fall 
off  ?  I  trow  'tis  better  to  dance  with  a  cavalier  than  with 
a  bishop !  "  He  turned  on  her  suddenly. 

"  Enough  !  "  he  said  sternly.  "  I  have  heard  too  much 
of  this  fool  banter.  I  will  hear  no  more ! "  His  eyes 
had  grown  to  a  curious  colour  as  of  tarnished  steel,  and 
he  held  her  by  his  glance  strangely.  For  an  instant 
they  stood  like  two  fierce  animals  preparing  to  fight  to 
the  death.  Tall  man  as  he  was,  her  eyes  were  almost 
on  a  level  with  his,  for  she  had  inherited  the  great  height 
of  Marie  Stuart.  Her  eyes  fell  before  his. 

"  Cousin,"  she  said  with  feigned  lightness,  "  tell  me, 
own  to  me,  that  you  do  but  masquerade  as  a  cavalier  ? " 
She  paused ;  somehow  she  had  no  heart  for  silly  quips 
just  then,  and  no  laughing  word  came  to  the  summons  of 
her  will. 

"  Do  you  bid  me  to  cease  masquerading  ? "  he  asked,  and 
there  was  that  in  his  voice  which  thrilled  her,  making 
her  heart  to  beat  wildly  and  a  rush  of  hot  blood  to  throb 
in  her  temples. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  and  she  scarce  knew  that  she 
had  spoken. 

"  Elizabeth !  Queen  of  my  life ! "  he  said,  and  he 
spoke  more  in  command  than  in  prayer.  "  Elizabeth, 
cease  masquerading  thou,  too  ! " 

She  said  no  word,  but  she  laid  her  hand  on  her  white 
bosom  as  though  to  still  her  unwonted  breathlessness. 

"  Beloved  !  beloved !  "  he  said.  She  was  compelled  to 
look  at  him,  and  in  that  look  was  revealed  to  her  why 


THE  SUPPER  IN  THE  WOOD  279 

the  world,  the  glory  of  summer,  why  all  things  were  new 
to  her. 

"  Come  and  dance,  cousin,"  she  said  tremulously. 

"  And  if  my  bishop's  mitre  should  fall  off  ? "  he 
whispered,  but  she  made  no  answer  save  to  hold  out  her 
hand  for  him  to  lead  her  to  the  dance.  For  an  instant 
he  looked  at  her,  and  it  seemed  as  though  his  eyes  drew 
her  to  him ;  then  he  took  her  hand  quietly,  but  in  so 
fierce  a  grasp  that  she  almost  called  aloud  in  pain. 

"  Do  I  hurt  you  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured,  but  she  let  her  hand  rest 
in  his. 

"  Christian  !  "  she  said,  and  he  bent  to  her.  "  Christian!" 
she  whispered  yet  a  second  time. 


CHAPTEE  XVII 

"AS  NEVER  MAN   HATH  LOVED  BEFORE" 

..."  And  on 

Her  voice  I  hung  like  fruit  among  green  leaves  ; 

Her  lips  were  all  my  own,  and — ah,  ripe  sheaves 

Of  happiness  !  ye  on  the  stubble  droop, 

But  never  may  be  garner'd.     I  must  stoop 

My  head,  and  kiss  death's  foot  !     Love  !  love,  farewell !  " 

— KEATS. 

LVE  has  a  calendar  of  his  own,  a  strange  and  seem- 
ingly erratic  system  of  counting  days  and  hours. 
Sometimes  he  writes  down  a  year  for  an  hour,  and 
sometimes  into  an  hour  he  reckons  joy  or  pain  sufficient 
to  fill  long  years. 

For  Elizabeth  Stuart  the  summer  months  seemed  a  life- 
time, and  yet  the  days  passed  with  the  swift  unreality  of 
a  dream.  She  was  quieter  than  of  yore  ;  in  the  midst  of 
laughter  and  gay  talk  she  would  grow  suddenly  abstracted. 
It  was  said  that  some  new  plan  was  afoot  whereof  the 
Queen  was  cognisant ;  it  was  whispered  that  she  projected 
a  journey  to  England,  or  that  she  had  tidings  out  of 
Germany,  which  foretold  her  return  to  Heidelberg,  or 
to  Prague.  Good  tidings  for  sure,  for  she  had  grown  more 
beautiful  than  she  had  ever  been,  and  the  throng  of  wor- 
shippers round  her  were  more  than  ever  enthralled  by  her 
glowing  charm. 

The  twelve  years'  truce  having  expired,  Maurice  of 
Orange  was  occupied  with  preparations  for  a  campaign 
against  the  Spaniards,  and  King  Friedrich,  over-weary  of 
the  life  at  the  Hague,  proclaimed  his  intention  of  joining 
Maurice's  forces.  Elizabeth  Stuart  protested  vehemently; 
it  was  as  though  she  durst  not  let  him  go.  She  reminded 

him  of  his  promise  to  King  James ;  she  contended  that  it 

00 


"AS  NEVER  MAN  HATH  LOVED  BEFORE"    281 

was  madness,  for  it  would  render  useless  the  embassy  at 
Vienna ;  she  vowed  that  it  was  unsuitable  for  a  crowned 
monarch  to  fight  as  though  he  were  a  soldier  of  fortune ; 
she  pleaded  with  him,  she  upbraided  him  ;  she  even  quoted 
Louise  Juliane's  written  opinion  on  the  subject,  and,  when 
a  woman  quotes  her  husband's  mother,  'tis  sure  she  must 
be  in  pressing  need  of  support.  But,  for  once,  Friedrich 
was  obdurate.  She  had  told  him  so  often  that  his 
will  was  strong,  that  he  had  begun  to  believe  it  himself, 
and  now  he  viewed  his  obstinacy  as  an  exhibition  of  his 
forceful  nature. 

Albeit  he  did  not  actually  pitch  his  tent  in  Maurice  of 
Orange's  camp,  he  spent  many  days  with  the  ariny,  and 
it  was  no  unusual  occurrence  for  him  to  send  excuses  for 
not  returning  to  sleep  in  the  house  on  the  Lange  Voor- 
hout ;  there  was  a  parade  the  following  morning  which  he 
would  fain  attend — there  was  a  muster  of  his  squadron — 
there  was  this,  there  was  that. 

Elizabeth  Stuart,  as  was  her  habit  once  a  thing  was 
settled,  made  no  further  demur,  and  the  life  at  the  Hague 
went  on  its  accustomed  quiet  course.  The  Halberstadter 
was  still  in  the  town,  being  in  command  of  a  troop  of 
Dutch  horse  stationed  at  the  Hague.  The  first  days  of  the 
King's  absence  he  avoided  the  house  on  the  Lange  Voor- 
hout,  but  Elizabeth  Stuart  told  him  before  the  King,  when 
the  latter  returned,  that  she  deemed  it  unkinsmanly  of 
him  thus  to  desert  her. 

"  Truly,  cousin,  'tis  but  a  poor  chivalry  you  offer  me," 
she  said.  They  were  in  the  oaken  parlour,  the  windows 
stood  open  and  the  evening  air  wafted  in  a  fragrancy  of 
roses.  The  King  was  dallying  with  the  English  ladies ; 
my  Lady  Phyllis,  seated  near,  held  her  lute  upon  her 
knee.  She  had  been  singing,  and  the  King  was  laughing 
with  her  about  the  words  of  her  song. 

" '  Gather  ye  rosebuds  while  ye  may ' ;  yes,  yes,  my 
Lady  Phyllis,  'tis  nigh  past  your  first  bloom.  Fie  !  sweet 
Phyllis,  I  vow  you  are  in  the  June  of  your  life  already  and 
still  unwed  ! "  he  cried. 

"  Your  Majesty  should  find  a  gallant  for  me,  then,"  she 


282  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

retorted ;  "  but  you  take  them  all  away  to  your  dull 
camp." 

"  I  leave  you  the  Halberstadter,  what  more  can  you 
demand  ?  Why,  sir,"  he  said,  turning  to  Christian,  "  here 
is  a  fair  damosel  who  says  she's  deserted  ! " 

"  Yes,  I  have  just  told  his  Highness  of  Brunswick  that 
'tis  unmannerly  thus  to  flout  us  ! "  cried  the  Queen.  "  But 
he  deems  it  unseemly  to  come  hither  when  your  Majesty 
is  not  by  to  control  us.  Ritter  Christel  was  not  thus  ! " 
she  added,  turning  to  the  Halberstadter.  "  He  was  a  per- 
fect cavalier ! " 

"I  am  a  soldier,  madame,"  answered  the  Halberstadter 
gravely. 

"  Well  said,  cousin,"  cried  Friedrich,  laughing.  "  Never- 
theless, as  your  superior  in  military  rank,  I  command  you 
to  be  on  guard  at  my  palace  during  rny  absence."  The 
Halberstadter  shot  him  a  quick  glance. 

"  Your  Majesty  shall  be  obeyed,"  he  said,  with  a  strange 
smile. 

Thus  it  fell  out  that  the  Halberstadter  was  in  constant 
attendance  on  her  Majesty.  Each  morning  they  rode  at 
the  head  of  a  gay  cavalcade,  passing  over  the  Buitenhof 
and  down  the  narrow  streets  past  the  Fish  Market  hard 
by  the  sombre  Groote  Kerke,  and  out  into  the  smiling, 
canal-crossed  country  fields.  Daily  he  sat  at  dinner  and 
supper  beside  her  Majesty,  and  her  ladies  whispered  that 
the  Halberstadter  was  becoming  a  second  Ritter  Christel. 
My  Lady  Phyllis  laughingly  mentioned  this  to  the  Queen 
— a  harmless  jest  enough,  but  Elizabeth  Stuart  turned  on 
her  with  sudden  anger. 

"  How  dare  you  speak  thus  to  me  ?  "  she  cried.  "  When 
will  you  learn  that  one  friend  can  never  take  another's 
place  ?  That  is  the  unwisdom  of  jealousy !  Each  hath  his 
own  place  in  a  life,  and  it  regards  no  one  who  takes  a  place 
beside  him.  I  hate  this  talk  of  one  friend  ousting  another!" 

My  Lady  Phyllis  gazed  at  the  Queen  in  surprise. 

"  Why,  madame,  I  meant  no  more  than  a  foolish  jest," 
she  said.  "  Only  your  Majesty  was  so  harsh  about  Duke 
Christian  at  first." 


"AS  NEVER  MAN  HATH  LOVED  BEFORE"    283 

"  I  am  still  harsh — I  still  deem  his  Highness  of  Bruns- 
wick— all  that  I  said  he  was  at  first,"  she  answered,  but 
she  avoided  my  Lady  Phyllis'  eyes,  and  busied  herself 
disentangling  her  jewelled  chain  which  had  caught  in  the 
lace  of  her  falling  collar. 

One  day  the  Queen  of  Bohemia's  Court  (so  they  called 
the  merry  company  which  was  wont  to  gather  round  the 
exiled  Queen)  had  been  on  a  gay  excursion  to  the  little 
town  of  Delft.  They  had  wandered  about  the  quaint 
streets  for  an  hour,  had  marvelled  at  the  gaunt  immensity 
of  the  church  tower,  and  then  had  returned  in  barges 
down  the  broad  canal  to  the  Hague.  The  Halberstadter 
had  been  more  than  usually  silent  and  sombre,  and 
Elizabeth  Stuart  had  pestered  him  with  a  hundred  jests 
until  even  my  Lady  Phyllis  had  taken  pity  on  him,  and 
had  called  him  to  her  side.  His  sister,  the  Countess 
Sophie  of  Nassau,  was  of  the  party,  and  she  had  often 
glanced  anxiously  at  her  brother's  clouded  brow. 

"  Ma  reine,  my  brother  Christian  is  a  dangerous  target 
for  the  shafts  of  pleasantry,"  she  had  said.  "  I  marvel 
that  he  bears  it  even  as  he  does.  Alack !  poor,  mad 
Halberstadter,  as  they  call  him,  I  think  he  hath  found 
the  hand  that  can  tame  him."  She  had  spoken  meaningly, 
but  Elizabeth  Stuart  had  hastily  turned  the  talk  to 
another  theme. 

Now  the  whole  company  was  partaking  of  late  supper 
at  the  house  on  the  Voorhout  The  Halberstadter  was 
seated  beside  her  Majesty.  Right  merrily  the  talk  and 
laughter  went  on,  and  Elizabeth  Stuart  was  in  her  gayest 
vein.  Jacob  Cats  was  there  as  usual,  Nethersole,  Frederik 
Hendrik,  Sir  Dudley  Carlton,  Amalia  Solms,  the  English 
ladies,  a  few  Bohemian  exiles,  and  a  number  of  Dutch 
gallants.  The  King  was  absent  at  the  camp, 

When  the  supper  ended,  of  course  the  English  ladies 
called  for  a  dance,  and  soon  the  melodies  of  the  galliard, 
the  branle,  and  the  couranto  echoed  into  the  stillness  of 
the  night.  Elizabeth  Stuart  vowed  it  was  too  hot  to 
dance,  and,  taking  my  Lady  of  Nassau's  arm,  she  wandered 
out  into  the  garden.  The  air  was  laden  with  the  perfume 


284  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

of  the  last  lime-blossoms,  a  heavy,  languorous  scent.  For 
some  time  the  ladies  paced  together  along  the  narrow 
garden  pathways,  breathing  in  the  fragrance.  Then  two 
figures  appeared  in  the  light  in  the  doorway. 

"  Ah !  your  Grace  of  Nassau,  have  I  found  the  cruel 
truant  who  had  vowed  to  tread  a  pavyn  with  me  this 
night  ?  A  heartless  desertion  of  a  poor  exiled  English- 
man, indeed ! "  cried  one,  as  the  Queen  and  Sophie  of 
Nassau  came  in  sight. 

"  Alack !  Sir  Dudley,  you  will  not  rob  me  of  my  com- 
rade ? "  said  the  Queen,  laughing. 

"  Yea,  madame,  so  I  will  if  her  ladyship  will  retrieve 
the  faith  of  faithless  womanhood  and  dance  with  me,"  he 
answered  stoutly.  The  first  bars  of  a  pavyn  rang  out, 
and  the  Queen  waved  the  dancers  away. 

"  Go  and  labour  to  divert  yourselves ;  I  will  stay  here 
with  my  honoured  cousin  of  Brunswick  for  a  space.  Ah  ! 
I  am  right  weary  with  our  jaunt  to-day  ! "  she  said.  The 
Countess  of  Nassau  and  Carlton  hurried  away. 

"  I  trust  your  Highness  is  not  loth  to  spend  a  short 
half -hour  here  in  the  coolness  with  me?"  Elizabeth  Stuart 
said  after  a  long  pause,  during  which  they  had  paced  the 
short  length  of  the  garden  twice.  They  had  not  spoken 
alone  since  that  evening  at  the  alfresco  feast.  He  stood 
still  and  held  out  both  his  hands  towards  her. 

"  Love  of  my  life  ! "  he  said,  "  have  mercy — do  not 
mock  me  now.  Listen  !  I  leave  Holland  soon." 

"  Leave  Holland  ?  "  she  said.  "  Why  ?  Where  do  you 
go  ?  What  will  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  love  a  woman  madly,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 
"  She  is  a  queen,  and  I  go  to  reconquer  her  realm  for 
her."  She  laid  her  hands  in  his. 

"  I  cannot  let  you  go,"  she  said  tremulously.  "  Ah  ! 
you  bid  me  to  cease  masquerading  once,  tell  me,  are  you 
playacting  now  ?  Christian,  I  cannot  let  you  go." 

"  Yet  I  must  go.  God !  do  you  think  I  can  live  on  for 
ever  as  I  am  living  now  ? "  he  broke  out. 

"  I  would  fain  live  on  for  ever  thus,"  she  said  slowly. 

"  No  man  can  bear  it ! "  he  answered  fiercely ;  "  yes, 


"AS  NEVER  MAN  HATH  LOVED  BEFORE"     285 

they  call  me  the  mad  Halberstadter,  and  I  shall  merit  the 
name  if  I  linger  here.  You  are  a  woman — you  are  no 
foolish  maiden — Elizabeth,  do  you  not  know  that  a  man's 
love  is  no  child's  play  ?  My  love  is  no  light  thing — no 
boy's  fancy  for  a  pretty  face  !  I  tell  you  that  no  man  can 
bear  it ! "  She  felt  how  his  whole  body  quivered,  she 
heard  his  breath  come  thick  and  fast ;  his  grip  hurt  her ; 
but  she,  too,  held  his  hands  almost  as  strongly.  Through 
the  open  windows  the  lilt  of  the  pavyn  melody  came  to 
them  and  the  sound  of  the  laughing  voices,  but  the  street 
beyond  the  garden  was  deserted  and  they  were  alone, 
save  for  the  heavy  scent  of  the  lime-blossom,  which 
seemed  to  be  a  languorous  presence  breathing  near  them. 

Slowly  he  drew  her  to  him,  and,  gathering  her  hands,  he 
held  them  imprisoned  with  both  of  his  against  his  breast. 
They  spoke  no  word,  for  passion  is  always  silent — passion 
which  says  what  no  words  can  tell — passion  whereof  the 
poets  have  tried  to  whisper  during  untold  ages. 

They  stood  there  immovable,  held  by  their  own  rap- 
ture, and  their  eyes  drew  their  souls  together;  their 
breath  came  fast.  The  pavyn  was  ending,  the  final 
chords  rang  out. 

"  When  ?  Beloved.  Have  mercy — tell  me  ! "  he 
whispered,  so  close  that  his  lips  almost  touched  hers. 

"  To-night,"  she  said.     "  Christian — I " 

"  Where  is  Her  Majesty  ?  She  will  catch  an  ague  in 
this  cold  ! "  came  Amalia  Solms'  voice,  and  she  appeared  in 
the  doorway  carrying  the  Queen's  velvet  cloak  on  her  arm. 

"  Oh !  madame,"  she  cried,  as  she  saw  the  Queen 
approaching  beside  the  Halberstadter,  "  I  crave  your 
Majesty's  forgiveness;  you  must  have  been  chilled  to 
death  without  your  cloak." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Queen,  "  I  am  not  chilled,"  and  she 
re-entered  the  house  with  a  half-humorous,  half-piteous 
smile  on  her  lips. 

The  Queen's  bedchamber  was  on  the  ground  floor,  near 
a  little  door  opening  on  to  the  garden.  It  was  a  spacious 
apartment,  oaken-panelled  and  lofty,  with  a  carven  over- 


286  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

mantel  and  a  deep,  tiled  fireplace.  The  curtains  were  of 
that  rich  viol-brown  velvet  which  the  Queen  loved ;  the 
hangings  of  the  large  four-posted  bed  were  of  brown,  but 
relieved  by  a  wealth  of  gold  and  silver,  emblazoning  the 
royal  arms  of  Bohemia  and  the  Palatinate,  encircled  by 
the  blue  ribbon  of  the  garter. 

"  All  that  we  have  left  of  the  Garter  is  here,"  the  Queen 
was  wont  to  say,  "  since  my  Lord  King  dropped  the 
ribbon  at  the  Strahow  Gate  after  the  battle."  It  was 
bitter  to  King  Friedrich  when  she  spoke  thus,  for  he 
raged  at  the  knowledge  that  Maximilian  of  Bavaria  had 
bought  the  diamond  Garter  for  a  mean  price  from  a  Polish 
soldier,  who  had  chanced  to  find  the  jewel,  which  Friedrich 
had  lost  when  he  had  ridden  back  to  the  Hradcany  Palace 
to  bid  Elizabeth  Stuart  fly  before  the  Imperial  conquerors. 
That  Maximilian  the  Astute  should  own  the  Garter  was 
galling  to  the  unfortunate  King. 

The  Queen's  room  was  sombre  ;  yet  there  was  a  certain 
repose  in  the  tone  of  the  whole  apartment,  and  it  suited 
Elizabeth  Stuart,  whose  eyes  were  so  strangely  similar  in 
colour  to  the  viol-brown  which  she  affected  in  her  dress, 
as  in  the  furnishings  of  her  house.  Then,  too,  the  brown 
showed  up  the  transparent  whiteness  of  her  skin,  and 
the  delicate  flush,  like  to  the  glow  of  a  wild-rose  petal, 
which  lay  on  her  fresh  young  cheek. 

That  summer  night,  as  she  sat  before  her  silver  mirror, 
she  seemed  like  a  matchless  pearl,  which  some  ingenious 
jeweller  had  set  in  a  sombre  background  to  enhance  the 
sheen  of  its  marvelous  whiteness.  In  the  light  of  the 
waxen  candles  beside  her  mirror,  she  saw  that  her  eyes 
were  shining,  that  her  lips  were  more  than  usual  red, 
and  she  deemed  that  the  secret  in  her  heart  must  be 
written  in  letters  of  flame  upon  her  flushed  face  for  all 
the  world  to  read.  The  tiring-woman  was  smoothing 
out  the  thick  coils  of  the  Queen's  hair,  and  Elizabeth 
Stuart  fancied  that  the  woman's  eyes  scrutinised  her 
inquisitively  in  the  mirror. 

"  Ah  yes  ! "  she  told  herself,  "  she  who  goes  from  out 
the  safe  paths  of  life  must  bear  the  rude  stare  of  the 


"AS  NEVER  MAN  HATH  LOVED  BEFORE"    287 

curious."  It  struck  her  that  her  whole  demeanour  that 
night  must  have  appeared  unusual.  It  was  her  habit 
to  be  assisted  in  her  unrobing  by  at  least  two  of  her 
ladies,  but  this  evening  she  had  dismissed  them  curtly, 
saying  she  was  weary  and  the  tiring- woman  could  attend 
to  her. 

"  Have  my  ladies  retired  to  their  sleeping  apart- 
ments ?  "  she  asked  the  woman  abruptly.  "  Go  and  bid 
them  be  ready  betimes  to-morrow,  for  I  would  ride  out 
early.  I  forgot  to  mention  this  to  their  ladyships."  The 
woman  went  on  her  errand.  The  Queen  leaned  her 
elbows  on  the  table  and  rested  her  face  in  her  hands. 
Her  cheeks  burned  feverishly,  and  her  hands  were  cold 
as  ice.  What  was  she  going  to  do — she,  the  mother  of 
little  Hal  ?  No  !  it  could  never  be — and  yet — and  yet, 
how  delicious  was  this  cup  of  life,  this  draught  of  passion 
which  would  soon  be  offered  to  her.  Was  she  to  go 
through  the  long  years  without  knowing  the  joy  of  love  ? 
She  had  loved  King  Friedrich,  and  she  loved  him  still ; 
but  it  had  always  been  duty,  acquiescence,  kindliness,  the 
wish  to  give  him  what  he  craved.  She  had  never  been 
stirred  by  passion  before ;  now  she  knew  how  the  touch 
of  a  hand  can  give  such  rapture  that  all  the  world  grows 
dim  and  far  off;  now  she  knew  what  Friedrich  meant 
when  he  had  said :  "  C'est  du  feu  que  tu  me  verses  dans 
les  veines ! "  She  marveled  he  could  have  felt  this,  and 
that  she  had  known  nothing  of  it.  Surely,  surely  this 
ecstasy  of  life  should  not  be  wasted  ?  If  God  sends  us 
rapture  shall  we  not  take  it  ? 

"  Christian ! "  she  murmured,  and  a  tremor  went 
through  her,  a  tremor  so  potent  that  she  drew  a  quick, 
sobbing  breath  as  of  pain.  A  voice  came  close  to  her, 
and  she  started  violently. 

"  The  ladies  are  a-bed,  your  Majesty.  My  Lady  Phyllis 
has  given  commands  that  they  should  be  wakened  early 
to-morrow.  The  other  ladies  were  already  asleep,"  the 
tiring-woman  said.  Her  voice  sounded  drowsy  and 
affronted,  as  though  she  resented  that  others  should 
slumber  while  she  was  forced  to  labour. 


288  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"Yes,  it  grows  late,"said  her  Majesty ;  "you  may  leave  me 
now — I  need  nothing  more."  The  woman  looked  surprised. 

"  Your  Majesty's  hair "  she  began. 

"  I  will  bind  it  up  myself  later,"  the  Queen  answered 
impatiently.  "  Stay  !  Give  me  my  blue  velvet  pelisse 
with  the  white  fur ;  I  would  sit  and  read  awhile,  and  there 
is  a  chill  in  the  air."  The  woman  brought  the  quaint 
little  garment  which  was  so  much  the  mode  just  then — a 
velvet  coat  trimmed  with  bands  of  soft  white  fur,  with 
loose  sleeves,  and  fur-trimmed  collar  cut  wide,  leaving 
the  neck  free.  The  fashion  of  the  rebatoe  and  fardingale 
— those  stiff  adorners  of  beauty — had  made  these  coats 
necessary  for  the  ladies  who  would  be  at  ease  in  their 
hours  of  relaxation ;  and  though  both  rebatoe  and 
fardingale  were  now  banished,  still  the  mode  of  "  the 
little  pelisse,"  as  it  was  called,  continued,  especially  in 
Holland,  where  the  painters  loved  to  portray  the  gentle 
dames  in  these  soft  garments. 

The  Queen  donned  the  "  little  pelisse,"  and  seated 
herself  near  a  table  where  lay  a  few  books.  She  opened 
one  at  random ;  it  was  "  Astr^e,"  Honor^  d'Urfe's  romance, 
a  pretty  thing  enough,  and  especially  pleasing  to  those 
who  knew  that  the  fantastic  medley  of  shepherds  and 
nymphs,  lovers  and  knights,  portrayed  Henry  IV.  of 
France  and  the  personages  of  his  Court.  Yet  Elizabeth 
Stuart  had  no  mind  for  such  fond  histories  just  then. 
She  turned  the  pages,  and  absently  her  eyes  followed  the 
words  she  saw  written  there ;  but  Celadon  and  Astree, 
Silvandre  and  Diane,  Hylas  and  the  rest,  meant  naught 
to  her.  Rather  she  thought  how  slow  was  the  tiring- 
woman,  who  was  moving  about,  gathering  up  the  discarded 
garments  and  locking  away  the  jewels. 

"Can  I  do  no  more  for  your  Majesty?"  the  woman 
asked,  after  a  time. 

"  No,  I  thank  you ;  that  is  all  I  need,"  she  answered, 
and  by  an  effort  of  will  she  kept  her  eyes  on  the  page 
whereon  was  writ  the  story  of  the  amorous  Celadon.  The 
woman  curtseyed  and  retired,  and  as  the  sound  of  her 
footsteps  died  away,  the  Queen  flung  the  book  on  the 


"AS  NEVER  MAN  HATH  LOVED  BEFORE"    289 

table.  At  last,  at  last,  she  was  alone,  and  now  she  must 
decide  upon  her  course.  Decide  ?  Alas  !  she  knew  that 
her  decision  was  already  taken ;  she  could  not  give  herself 
to  the  Halberstadter.  Yet  why  had  she  whispered  that 
word  "  to-night "  to  him  ?  She  was  no  silly  wench  who 
could  pretend  to  innocent  rashness ;  she  had  known  full 
well  what  he  craved.  With  a  rush  of  thrilling  passion 
she  knew,  too,  what  she  desired — but  it  could  never  be, 
she  told  herself.  Ah !  why  could  she  not  plead  weak- 
ness before  the  tribunal  of  her  own  judgment  ?  Despair- 
ingly she  knew  that  she  was  strong — despairingly  she  knew 
that  she  must  cheat  the  man  she  loved — cheat  him,  for 
when  she  had  bidden  him  to  come  to  her  it  had  been  a 
tacit  promise — a  consent. 

For  a  moment  she  thought  she  would  not  unlatch  the 
little  garden  door ;  she  would  fasten  her  casement,  draw 
the  curtains  round  her  bed  and  feign  sleep,  and  when  he 
came  he  would  wait  awhile  in  the  moonlit  garden,  and 
then  go — go  for  ever. 

No !  she  could  not  do  this — she  could  not  face  the 
lifelong  knowledge  of  his  hatred  and  scorn.  This  one 
thing  must  be  hers,  this,  that  he  should  hold  her  in  his 
arms — that  she  should  know  his  kiss — that  she  should 
confess  her  passion  to  him.  She  told  herself  that  this 
would  be  no  crime — no  disloyalty  to  Friedrich — only 
this  once — only  this  once  ! 

She  sprang  up  and  went  quickly  along  the  short  pas- 
sage to  the  garden  door,  unlatched  it,  and  sped  back, 
leaving  her  own  door  ajar.  Her  casement  was  open,  and 
the  scent  of  the  lime-blossom  stole  in.  The  night  was 
far  spent,  and  already  there  was  a  chill  in  the  air  which 
heralded  the  dawn.  She  heard  a  swift  step  without  in  the 
garden.  Instinctively  she  turned  away  and  leaned  against 
the  oaken  shelf  of  the  fireplace.  She  closed  her  eyes, 
her  whole  being  trembled,  and  a  shudder  ran  over  her 
shoulders,  for  she  knew  that  in  an  instant  his  touch 
would  come  upon  her.  She  was  breathless,  quivering ; 
her  hands  were  icy  cold  and  feeble  like  those  of  a 
swooning  woman. 

T 


290  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Elizabeth  !     Beloved  ! "  she  heard  him  whisper. 

She  remained  immovable. 

"  Elizabeth,"  he  said  again,  and  she  felt  him  near  her. 
Then  came  the  touch  wherefore  she  had  waited,  and  a 
thrill  went  through  her  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Christian,"  she  said,  and  turned  to  him  swiftly. 
Their  eyes  met — lingered — his  look  travelled  down  from 
her  eyes  to  her  lips — then,  while  the  universe  stood  still 
for  her,  while  her  pulses  fluttered,  halted,  and  the  blood 
seemed  to  ebb  from  her  heart,  she  felt  his  lips  claim  hers. 

It  was  as  though  her  consciousness  floated  deliciously, 
as  if  time  and  space  had  vanished  and  the  world  held 
only  that  potent  thrill  which  burned  and  froze  at  once. 
Slowly  he  drew  away  from  her — drew  away,  for  her  lips 
clung  to  his,  and  as  they  parted  her  breath  drank  his, 
as  if  half  dead  with  thirst,  she  sought  to  drain  at  one 
draught  the  passion's  elixir  which  only  his  being  could 
bestow  upon  her. 

Long  they  leaned  together  there,  his  arm  supporting 
her,  for  else  she  was  so  weak — so  wondrous  weak — that 
she  would  have  fallen. 

Then  he  drew  her  to  her  chair  and,  kneeling  beside 
her,  kissed  her  uncoiled  hah-,  buried  his  face  in  it,  breathed 
in  its  fragrancy;  then  took  her  hand  and  kissed  her 
fingers,  crushed  the  palm  against  his  mouth,  and  growing 
bolder,  pressed  his  lips  along  the  smoothness  of  her  bare, 
white  arm,  until  the  pushed  back  sleeve  defended  the 
softness  of  her  shoulder.  Grown  bolder  still,  he  parted 
the  lace  upon  her  bosom,  and  kissed  her  breast,  where 
the  blue  veins  wandered  like  the  mysterious  pathways  of 
some  passion's  paradise.  His  kisses  fell  on  the  whiteness 
of  her  slim  throat  until,  in  frenzied  rapture,  his  lips  met 
hers  once  more,  and  they  knew  the  eternity  of  a  kiss — 
that  eternity  which,  alack !  is  so  soon  ended. 

Softly  through  the  open  casement,  past  the  hangings 
of  viol-brown  velvet,  came  the  breath  of  the  lime-trees 
and  the  rustle  of  the  almost  imperceptible  night-breeze 
in  the  leaves.  All  the  world  was  asleep  save  Elizabeth 
and  Christian  and  the  summer  night. 


"AS  NEVER  MAN  HATH  LOVED  BEFORE"     291 

She  leaned  against  his  arm  and  gazed  into  his  face. 

"  Christian,  why  have  you  made  me  love  you  ? "  she 
asked.  He  bent  his  head,  and  for  answer  drew  her 
closely  to  him,  and  once  more  she  felt  how  he  trembled. 
When  he  released  her  she  asked  him  again  : 

"  Why  have  you  made  me  love  you  ?  Silent  one, 
answer  me." 

"  Because  there  is  only  you  on  earth,"  he  said.  "  Be- 
cause you  had  to  love  me." 

"  That  is  no  answer,"  she  said,  with  a  little  laugh. 

"  Oh !  woman  that  you  are  1  why  must  you  ask  that 
which  no  one  can  tell  ? "  he  said.  "  I  love  you  as  never 
man  hath  loved  before,  and  that  is  why  you  love  me." 

"  So  many  have  loved  me,  but  I  have  never "  she 

began. 

"  How  dare  you  tell  me  that  ?  "  he  broke  out  fiercely. 
"  No  one  has  ever  loved  you  save  I — no  one ;  do  you 
hear  ? "  His  eyes  dominated  her,  and  she  repeated  as  in 
a  dream : 

"  No  one  has  ever  loved  me  save  you,  Christian ;  that 
is  why  I  am  yours." 

He  stood  up  and  imperiously  raised  her  to  her  feet ; 
then  once  more  he  held  her  against  his  breast,  so  that 
she  rested  there. 

Suddenly  she  put  him  from  her,  gently  yet  firmly. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  she  said  in  an  altered  tone.  "  Chris- 
tian, I  love  you  more  than  life  itself,  and  all  my  being 
cries  out  to  be  yours.  I  am  yours,  heart  and  soul  and 
thought ;  your  kiss  is  life,  your  touch  is  fire,  but  this 
cannot  be — I  cannot — Oh  !  beloved,  do  you  understand  ? " 

He  stood  before  her,  and  for  a  moment  she  feared  him 
as  a  victim  fears,  and  in  a  flash  she  realised  that  if  he 
took  her  by  force  she  would  not  resist. 

"  Christian — Christian,  have  mercy  upon  me  ! "  she 
said,  and  held  out  her  hands  towards  him.  "  No  man 
would  believe  me — you,  even  you,  will  not — but  to  be 
yours — God  knows  that  every  drop  of  blood  in  me  burns 
as  yours  does — but  I  cannot " 

He  took  her  hands  with  ineffable  tenderness. 


292  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Why,  oh  !  love  of  mine  !  why  ?  "  he  said  very  gently. 

"  If  Friedrich  were  less  cruelly  treated  by  destiny  I 
should  not  have  the  strength  to  say  you  nay,"  she  said 
brokenly,  "  but  now  my  pity  conquers  my  love.  No, 
do  not  misunderstand,  for  Christ's  dear  sake,  beloved — 
Christian,  I  love  only  you  on  earth,  yet  my  pity  stands  be- 
tween me  and  the  fairest  happiness  I  shall  ever  dream  of." 

He  gathered  her  to  him  as  though  she  had  been  a  tired 
child,  and  she  lay  against  his  heart.  Her  hand  stole  up 
and  touched  his  face  softly. 

"  Loved  one  ! "  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  have  cheated 
you — it  is  a  great  cruelty  which  I  am  doing  you.  Alas ! 
I  know  it,  and  yet  I  could  not  deny  myself  this  one  hour 
of  joy.  How  could  I  let  you  go  from  me  without  telling 
you  that  I  loved  you — without  knowing  the  rapture  of 
your  kiss  ? " 

"  In  your  strange  logic  what  is  the  difference  between 
this  and " 

"  Oh  !  cannot  you  understand  ? "  she  cried  passion- 
ately ;  "  alas  !  no  man  could,  and  I  am  dealing  you  agony 
when  I  would  fain  give  you  heaven ! " 

"  Can  it  never  be  ?  "  he  pleaded.     "  Never  ?     Never  ? " 

"  How  can  I  tell  you  ?  do  not  ask  me  that !  But  yes, 
I  can  answer  you,  Christian — never  while  the  King  is  thus 
unhappy,"  she  said. 

"  Then  if  I  win  back  a  kingdom  for  him  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Nay,"  she  answered,  "  I  can  make  no  bargain  with 
destiny.  But  this  remember,  that  I  love  you — love  you 
with  all  the  passion  there  is  on  earth." 

Once  more  their  lips  met,  and  she  grew  weak. 

"Go — beloved — as  you  are  strong — have  mercy — go 
and  leave  me,"  she  whispered. 

He  turned  away,  went  to  the  window  and  stood  there 
silent. 

"  Christian  ! "  she  said.  "  Tell  me  that  you  do  not 
hate  me  for  this." 

He  came  to  her  once  more ;  his  face  was  white  and  set, 
and  his  eyes  gleamed  with  the  torture  of  his  self-control. 

"  I  love  you,"  he  said.     "  Having  kissed  your  lips  how 


"AS  NEVER  MAN  HATH  LOVED  BEFORE"    293 

can  I  ever  forget  ?  Elizabeth — you  bid  me  have  mercy 
upon  you — do  you  know  what  you  ask  ?  " 

"  I  know  full  well,  Christian,"  she  murmured,  with  her 
hands  hiding  her  face. 

He  flung  himself  down  beside  the  chair  where  she  was 
cowering;  he  tore  her  hands  from  before  her  face,  and 
kissed  her  madly, 

"  Go — Christian !  Some  day,  perchance — but  now  in 
mercy  go  ! "  she  moaned.  "  Go — if  you  love  me." 

He  sprang  up,  and  she  gazed  at  him  almost  with  awe, 
for  in  the  place  of  the  lover  she  saw  a  man  whose  face 
expressed  a  grandeur — a  sternness  of  renunciation  which 
made  of  him  a  being  isolated  in  his  nobility. 

"  Because  I  love  you,"  he  said  gravely,  "  because  I  love 
you  as  no  man  hath  ever  loved,  I  leave  you  now."  He 
stood  a  moment  before  her,  then  turned;  and  it  was  as 
though  agony  had  suddenly  blinded  him,  for  he  groped 
his  way  with  outstretched  arms.  On  a  little  table  near 
the  door  her  glove  was  lying,  and  his  hand  touched 
it.  He  started,  snatched  it  up  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips, 
then  hid  it  against  his  heart,  and  stumbling  like  a  drunken 
man,  passed  out  of  the  room. 

"  Christian — come  back  to  me  !  "  she  called  breathlessly. 

"  I  cannot  let  you  go — come  to  me "  But  he  did 

not  hear. 

The  garden  door  fell  to  with  a  little  gentle  click. 
Elizabeth  heard  uneven  steps  on  the  pathway,  and  then 
she  was  alone  with  the  fragrance  of  the  lime-blossoms, 
and  the  memory  of  his  kiss  burning  on  her  lips.  She 
went  to  the  window,  and  drew  back  the  heavy  viol- 
brown  velvet  curtain.  The  garden  was  silent — Christian 
had  gone.  Already  the  grey  of  dawn  streaked  the  sky, 
and  the  lime-trees  seemed  like  tall  priests  celebrating 
some  mysterious  rite  of  the  sacrament  of  renascent  day. 

With  infinite  sadness  Elizabeth  Stuart  realised  that 
the  night  was  past — this  one  night  wherein  she  had 
touched  the  brim  of  the  cup  of  life — this  night  wherein 
she  had  renounced  passion  for  ever. 


294  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

The  dawn  had  broken,  and  already  the  labyrinth  of 
streets  surrounding  the  markets  were  peopled  with  a 
hurrying  stream  of  fisherwomen  from  Scheveningen  with 
barrows  laden  with  that  silver  of  the  sea,  the  glittering 
mass  of  fish ;  with  gardeners  bringing  fresh  vegetables ; 
with  peasant-women  bearing  baskets  of  eggs,  or  wheeling 
little  carts  filled  with  round  cheeses  either  golden -rinded 
as  some  strange  fruit  of  tropic  climes  or  of  clotted  cream 
in  massy  yellow  cakes.  It  was  all  commonplace  enough, 
but  it  was  touched  with  the  poetry  of  early  morn,  and  it 
charmed  the  eye  with  the  varying  colours  of  the  mer- 
chandise and  the  quaintness  of  the  costume  of  the  sellers. 
The  grim  walls  of  the  Groote  Kerk  and  the  quaint  gables 
of  the  Rathaus  showed  mysterious  and  forbidding  against 
the  grey  of  the  sky.  Yet,  all  undismayed,  the  booths 
clustered  beneath  the  church's  gaunt  walls,  clinging  there 
insolent  with  the  sanction  of  long  custom. 

There  were  buxom,  laughing  fisherwomen  with  short, 
bunchy,  blue  skirts,  coloured  aprons,  and  kerchiefs  tied 
over  the  shining  metal  snoods  which  encircled  their  sun- 
bleached  hair,  their  ruddy  arms  bare  almost  to  the  shoulder, 
and  their  feet  encased  in  seafarers'  heavy  boots,  or  clumsy 
wooden  sabots;  there  were  bearded  fishermen  with  blue 
jerkins,  high  boots,  and  knitted  caps ;  peasant  women  in 
the  distinctive  costume  of  their  villages. 

Suddenly,  into  this  homely,  busy  scene  strode  a  black- 
cloaked  figure,  a  tall,  slight  man  with  a  felt  hat  pulled 
down  over  his  eyes.  The  market-people  saw  the  diamond 
buckles  flashing  on  his  shoes,  and  noted  that,  where  the 
cloak  fell  away,  the  sheen  of  a  satin  doublet  betrayed  this 
cavalier  to  be  no  early  riser  but  a  belated  roisterer  return- 
ing from  some  nocturnal  revel.  Nevertheless  the  eager 
vendors  besieged  him  with  demands  to  buy. 

"  See,  mijnheer,  the  excellent  carrots !  Will  you  not 
bring  a  bushel  home  for  the  stew-pot  ? "  one  cried. 

"  Here,  pretty  sir ! "  called  an  old  dame  with  a  basket 
of  green  vegetables  and  flowers,  "  buy  a  posey  for  your 
good  dame,"  and  she  thrust  into  his  face  one  of  those 
tightly  bound  flower  bunches  which  peasants  love. 


"AS  NEVER  MAN  HATH  LOVED  BEFORE"    295 

"  Mynheer !  mijnheer  !  Butter  or  fresh  milk  !  Let  me 
carry  a  pail  for  your  little  ones  at  home  !  " 

With  an  angry  gesture  the  man  pushed  on.  He  was 
silent  before  the  vendors'  importunities,  but  they  followed 
him,  for  a  gallant  was  fair  game  for  pleasantry  if  caught 
wandering  through  the  town  at  dawn. 

"  Here  are  ripe  apricots ;  they  are  refreshing  after  tavern 
drink,  Sir  Nightbird.  Buy  some ! "  a  forward  garden- 
wench  called,  and  clutched  at  the  intruder's  cloak. 

"  Your  pardon,  juffrouw ;  I  have  no  need  of  your  good 
merchandise,"  he  said  hoarsely,  and  lifted  his  broad  felt 
hat  from  his  brow  in  a  courteous  salute.  The  girl  fell 
back,  dragged  by  a  man's  heavy  hand. 

"  'Tis  the  Halberstadter,  let  him  be,"  he  said  gruffly. 
Who  did  not  know  the  mad  Halberstadter  ?  He  was 
famous  as  the  devil  himself  in  the  Hague,  and  more 
easily  recognised. 

They  let  him  be,  and  he  stormed  on.  Hell  itself  was 
in  his  heart,  and  written  on  his  face  was  such  despair 
that  even  the  stolid  people  shrank  back  from  him  now 
that  he  forgot  to  draw  his  hat  over  his  brow. 

"  Who  knows  from  what  shameful  orgy  he  comes?"  they 
whispered.  "Who  can  tell  to  what  fierce  deed  he  hurries  ?  " 

The  chime  of  the  Groote  Kerk  jangled  out  its  cracked 
tune ;  then  came  the  deep  voice  of  the  church  clock  pro- 
claiming the  hour  solemnly.  Ah,  God  !  Could  it  be  but 
two  hours  since  he  had  held  Elizabeth  Stuart  in  his  arms  ? 
Could  it  be  that  in  so  short  a  span  of  time  he  had  ex- 
changed the  hope  of  rapture  for  the  certitude  of  despair  ? 
He  was  indeed  an  outcast  now.  What  remained  to  him 
but  madness,  shame,  death  ? 

"  The  mad  Halberstadter  !  Oh,  protect  me  !  "  called  a 
pert  maiden  in  feigned  coyness.  He  stopped  suddenly 
and  glared  at  her. 

"  Oh  !  Lud  'a  mercy  !  what  fierce  eyes  !  You  looked 
not  thus  when  you  kissed  me  at  the  kermess  last  year," 
she  said. 

"  Kissed  you !  God  in  heaven  !  kissed  you !  "  he  cried 
wildly. 


296  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Alack !  he  is  quite  mad,  the  Halberstadter ! "  she 
sighed,  and  turned  to  some  rude  bantering  with  a  group 
of  loiterers. 

"  'Tis  only  Mera  Loon,  the  forward  hussy  !  "  muttered 
an  aged  crone. 

Yes,  he  told  himself  bitterly,  he  had  had  truck  with 
such  baggages  as  Mera  Loon — he  had  squandered  his 
kisses  on  such  wantons — he  was  smirched  body  and  soul, 
and  it  had  been  defilement  for  Elizabeth  Stuart  when  he 
had  kissed  her  lips.  And  yet  she  loved  him  !  But  could 
she  know  how  debased  he  was,  she  would  turn  from  him 
in  horror.  In  his  pain  he  essayed  to  deny  her  purity, 
and  even  as  the  ugly  thought  came  to  him  he  loathed 
himself  for  it,  saw  himself  as  a  sacrilegist. 

For  long  he  had  wandered  aimlessly  in  the  narrow 
streets,  like  to  some  wounded  animal  ever  circling  feebly, 
feverishly  on  its  own  tracks.  He  had  passed  beneath  the 
windows  of  slumberous  burghers,  who,  perhaps,  had 
turned  lazily  in  their  wainscoted  wall-beds  hearing  his 
restless  tread. 

On,  past  the  markets  he  hurried,  and  out  into  the 
stillness  of  the  Bosch.  He  hardly  knew  what  he  did — 
was  scarcely  conscious  that  he  strode  onward.  The 
silence  in  the  wood  came  like  a  soothing  hand  on  his 
racked  heart.  Instinctively  he  took  his  way  to  the 
beech  grove  where  he  had  stood  with  Elizabeth  Stuart 
that  night  of  the  alfresco  feast ;  and  here  his  madness  left 
him,  and  he  flung  himself  face  downwards  on  the  cool, 
damp  moss.  For  a  space  he  lay  there  as  one  dead,  then 
his  agony  and  the  sense  of  his  physical  defilement  reawoke 
and  he  wept  wildly,  painfully,  finding  no  assuagement  in 
tears,  as  women  do,  but  rather  the  added  torture  of  the 
acknowledged  abasement  which  weeping  brings  to  the 
strong  man. 

"  To  what  shameful  orgy  goes  the  mad  Halberstadter  ? " 
they  had  said.  Alas !  this  was  his  orgy — this  was  the 
feast  of  life  which  destiny  held  for  Christian,  the  mad 
Halberstadter,  who  loved,  as  he  had  said,  as  never  man 
had  loved  before. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    HERO   OF    FLEURDS 
"  Tout  pour  Dieu  et  pour  elle  ! " 

WHEN  King  Friedrich  returned  from  the  camp  he 
was  vehement  in  his  displeasure  at  the  Halber- 
stadter's  absence.  Why  had  he  gone,  and  where  ? 
It  was  unmannerly  to  have  departed  without  bidding  his 
friends  adieu.  Friedrich  took  it  as  a  personal  affront.  The 
Queen  made  scant  reply  to  Friedrich' s  questions ;  she 
averred  that  she  really  knew  naught  of  the  Halberstadter ; 
the  night  before  he  left  he  had  been  at  supper  at  the 
house  on  the  Lange  Voorhout,  more  she  could  not  say. 

"You  were  most  likely  harsh  to  my  poor  friend — I 
cannot  comprehend  why  you  always  treat  him  so  ill,"  the 
King  said  querulously.  For  once  the  Queen  made  no 
answer  to  his  fretful  speeches. 

He  betook  himself  to  the  Countess  of  Nassau,  Christian's 
sister,  and  complained  of  the  Halberstadter's  sudden  de- 
parture ;  but  here  too  he  was  met  with  vague  responses. 

"  I  begin  to  mislike  the  Countess.  She  assured  me  that 
Christian  has  gone  to  Brunswick  to  enrol  troops  hi  my 
service,  but  she  had  a  meaning  smile  on  her  lips ;  I  am 
near  sure  she  knows  the  reason  of  his  leaving  without 
bidding  me  farewell,"  he  grumbled  to  Elizabeth  Stuart. 

"  I  doubt  whether  her  Highness  hath  more  knowledge 
thereon  than  you  have,  dear  my  lord ;  but  women's  wits 
are  quick,"  she  answered.  "  Your  friend  is  gone ;  must 
your  Majesty  inquire  further  ?  " 

For  a  few  days  the  King  kept  to  his  grievance ;  and  who 
can  tell  what  it  cost  the  Queen  to  hide  her  impatience, 
into  which  was  mixed  an  agony  of  regret,  but  which  she 
had,  perforce,  to  mask  for  fear  of  betraying  herself. 


297 


298  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Then  there  came  an  envoy  from  King  James ;  and  his 
mission,  by  giving  Friedrich  real  cause  for  annoyance, 
quelled  his  discontent  with  his  friend  the  Halberstadter. 
The  English  envoy  had  been  despatched  to  remonstrate 
with  King  Friedrich  upon  his  imprudence  in  joining 
Maurice  of  Orange's  camp.  In  vain  the  unlucky  monarch 
pleaded  that  'twas  no  shame  for  a  German  Prince  to  bear 
arms  in  a  famed  commander's  army,  King  James  had  fore- 
stalled this  argument  by  most  excellent  reasoning :  How 
could  an  ambassador,  however  skilled,  negotiate  peace  for  a 
prince  actually  in  arms  against  Austria  ?  How  could  an 
emperor,  however  inclined  to  leniency,  pardon  an  ex-king 
and  lift  the  ban  from  a  prince  who  thus  openly  showed 
his  intention  of  recommencing  hostilities  on  the  first  oppor- 
tunity ?  King  James  refused  to  spend  money  on  main- 
taining so  futile  an  enterprise ;  and  further,  if  Friedrich 
did  not  immediately  conform  to  his  fatherly  advice  by 
leaving  the  camp  and  keeping  quiet  in  the  Hague,  the 
thirty  thousand  English  pounds  which  had  been  promised 
to  Elizabeth  Stuart  would  not  be  paid. 

"  Let  my  father  keep  his  gold ! "  cried  the  Queen, 
thoroughly  aroused  by  this  ungenerous  threat.  "  We  will 
ne'er  be  bribed."  But  alack  !  Friedrich  knew  that  his 
treasury  was  empty,  knew,  too,  that  the  monthly  sum 
voted  by  the  States-General  was  all  insufficient  to  pay  the 
outstanding  debts  in  the  Hague.  It  was  not  enough  that 
Fate  had  dealt  him  failure,  the  humiliation  of  penury  was 
his  as  well.  Though  poverty  is  in  itself  no  shame,  it 
brings  manifold  mortifications  to  a  proud  spirit.  Eliza- 
beth Stuart  offered  to  sell  her  jewels.  She  was  told  that 
in  war-time  rubies,  diamonds,  and  pearls  were  dross ;  who 
would  buy  baubles  then  ? 

"  Can  I  not  pawn  them  ? "  cried  her  Majesty.  "  I  have 
heard  that  when  none  will  buy  it  is  always  possible  to 
pawn  jewels." 

"  It  is  unfitting  for  a  Princess  Palatine  to  pawn  any- 
thing," said  Friedrich  pompously.  "  Where  learned  you 
such  things  ? " 

"  What  matters  it  where  I  learned  them  ?     And  why 


THE  HERO  OF  FLEURUS  299 

should  it  be  unfitting  ?  Is  it  a  better  pride  to  accept  a 
bribe  ?  "  she  asked  scornfully. 

Yet  resistance  was  useless,  and  after  days  of  argument, 
Friedrich  gave  in,  promised  obedience,  relinquished  his 
command  under  Maurice,  and  the  thirty  thousand  pounds 
were  paid. 

Each  day  saw  the  arrival  of  many  refugees  at  the 
Hague,  men  who  had  served  King  Friedrich  in  Bohemia, 
ruined  gentlemen  from  the  Palatinate,  whose  lands  had 
been  devastated  by  the  Spaniards,  and  even  more  piteous 
still,  such  men  as  the  Lord  of  Schonaich,  he  who  had  be- 
friended the  unfortunate  monarch  in  his  dire  need  in 
Silesia.  It  was  treason  to  shelter  a  man  under  the  ban 
of  the  empire,  be  he  robber  or  king,  and  all  those  who 
had  not  turned  from  Friedrich  and  Elizabeth  in  their 
misfortune  were  declared  rebels  and  their  lands  were 
sequestrated  by  imperial  decree.  Schonaich,  for  ex- 
ample, had  been  expelled  from  his  house,  and  had  been 
permitted  to  bear  away  nothing  save  his  Bible  and  his 
staff. 

"  It  is  thus  that  the  man  of  God  should  go  forth ! " 
shouted  the  soldiery  in  cruel  mockery  when  the  aged  lord 
had  craved  permission  to  take  at  least  a  change  of  raiment 
with  him  into  exile. 

"  Aye  ! "  he  had  answered  proudly,  "  I  go  forth  with  a 
quiet  heart,  for  he  who  suffers  for  his  King  suffers  for  his 
God,  and  God  will  never  forsake  him." 

There  were  many  sad  histories  of  this  kind  ;  there  were 
many  brave  gentlemen  who  sacrificed  all  in  a  spirit  of 
absolute  simple  faith.  These  were  the  pawns  in  that  vast 
game  of  chess  where  the  kings  and  bishops  were  moved 
ruthlessly  on  the  board  by  the  colossus  "  Ambition " 
masked  as  "  Religion,"  playing  against  the  giant  "  Reten- 
tion" in  cowl  and  gown  and  masquerading  as  "The 
Faith." 

The  Hague  was  the  refuge  of  all  political  victims,  and 
King  Friedrich's  ill-supplied  treasury  was  strained  to  the 
last  groschen  to  support  them.  Sternly  King  James  wrote, 
bidding  Friedrich  reduce  his  Court,  but  how  could  he  leave 


300  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

men  to  starve  who  had  lost  all  in  his  service  ?  Friends 
and  adherents  in  England  sent  small  sums  or  gifts  of  cloth, 
linen,  books,  or  wine  to  Elizabeth  Stuart,  but  such  things 
were  insufficient  to  maintain  a  Court  of  over  three  hundred 
persons. 

"  Courage  !  'tis  only  an  o'er-darkened  span  of  time  !  " 
the  Queen  told  herself,  for  it  was  impossible  to  believe 
that  a  Prince  Palatine  should  long  be  deprived  of  his  lands 
and  revenues — he,  the  richest  potentate  in  Germany  to 
whom  the  Rhine  toll  belonged.  Was  not  "  Rich  as  he 
who  owns  the  Rhine  toll"  a  familiar  figure  of  speech 
denoting  enormous  wealth  ? 

In  the  spring  of  1622  her  Majesty  of  Bohemia  gave 
birth  to  a  daughter,  and  Friedrich  importuned  her  to 
pray  the  Halberstadter  to  be  the  infant's  sponsor. 
Elizabeth  Stuart  was  lying  in  her  velvet-hung  bed,  above 
her  head  were  the  emblazonad  emblems  of  Bohemia,  en- 
circled by  the  blue  ribbon  of  the  Garter.  The  Queen's 
face  was  fragile  and  flower-like  beneath  the  heavy  waves 
of  her  chestnut  hair,  and  her  white  hands  seemed  to  have 
gamed  an  added  delicacy — a  pathetic  transparency.  At 
the  foot  of  the  bed  crouched  two  small,  brown  monkeys 
— Jacky,  very  old  and  grey  nozzled  now ;  and  Master 
Abraham,  as  her  Majesty  had  named  the  new  monkey, 
much  to  Friedrich's  half-amused  annoyance,  for  he  knew 
the  Queen  mocked  Abraham  Scultetus  by  thus  naming 
a  monkey  after  him. 

The  King  stood  beside  the  bed ;  he  was  very  gentle  to 
Elizabeth  Stuart,  with  an  almost  timid  tenderness,  as  one 
who  would  say :  "  You  have  given  me  all  things ;  I,  too, 
give  you  all,  and  yet  you  have  so  much  more  to  give  that 
my  gift  seems  paltry."  It  was,  perhaps,  by  this  humility, 
by  this  appealing,  unspoken  avowal  of  weakness,  that 
Friedrich  held  Elizabeth  Stuart's  tenderness,  despite  his 
querulous  pomposity  and  his  assumption  of  superiority. 
She  loved  him  patiently,  as  a  woman  loves  an  ailing 
child;  she  was  true  to  him  because  it  had  been  her  des- 
tiny that  this  childlike  being  should  be  her  "  man,"  though 


THE  HERO  OF  FLEURUS  301 

he  could  never  have  been  her  mate !  But  to  consider 
that  would  have  been  disloyal,  and  a  smirch  on  him  in 
her  sight ;  and  though  sometimes  she  remembered,  and 
her  soul  grew  weary  and  empty  for  a  moment,  she  always 
turned  away  her  thoughts;  also,  it  was  useless,  and 
thoroughly  English  in  this,  she  eschewed  the  useless 
instinctively. 

"  Let  me  have  those  silly  beasts  removed,  dear  heart," 
the  king  said,  as  the  playful  monkeys  rolled  over  like 
little  wrestlers ;  "  they  are  crumpling  your  coverlet." 

"  They  are  well  enough,  and  they  divert  me,"  she 
answered  carelessly. 

"  Nay,  they  weary  you,  and  I  cannot  allow  you " 

he  began. 

"  Oh  !  for  the  dear  Lord's  sake,  leave  them  be,"  she  said 
with  sudden  irritation.  "  I  must  know  best  what  wearies 
me.  Nay,  be  not  wounded,  Friedrich ;  come,  give  me 
your  hand  and  tell  me  of  other  things,"  she  added  hastily, 
as  he  drew  back  offended. 

He  smiled;  ah !  how  piteously  childlike  women  were 
with  their  whimsies  and  their  uncalled-for  moods,  yet 
'twas  surely  the  man's  role  to  humour  them,  he  thought. 

"  I  have  spoken  to  you  before,  sweeting,  of  my  wish  for 
Christian  of  Brunswick  to  be  this  new  little  maiden's 
godfather,"  he  said,  "  and  I  would  fain  write  this  day  to 
tell  him  we  have  chosen  him." 

A  hot  flush  flooded  the  Queen's  cheek, 

"  Why  must  you  insist  on  this  ? "  she  asked  quickly ; 
"  you  know  I  do  not  wish  it." 

"  But  I  wish  it,  dearling ;  and  sure  you  can  have  naught 
against  my  choosing  my  friend  for  my  child's  sponsor  ?  "  he 
answered.  "  You  can  name  the  other  gossips  for  the  babe 
— you  know  I  have  no  unreasoning  dislikes  as  you  have  ! " 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  my  cousin  of  Brunswick 
would  wish  to  be  the  child's  sponsor  ?  What  can  it  be 
to  him  ?  "  she  said  in  a  low,  uncertain  voice. 

"  You  know  full  well  that  he  will  account  it  an  honour. 
And,  indeed,  are  we  sunk  so  low  that  none  should  care 
to  be  our  child's  gossip  ? "  he  said  bitterly. 


302  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  That  hath  naught  to  do  in  the  matter,"  she  said. 

"  It  hath — it  hath  ! "  he  cried  vehemently.  "  You, 
too,  even  you,  seek  to  humble  me." 

"  Ah  !  Friedrich,  I  humble  you  ?  I  ? "  she  said,  and 
the  tears  rose  in  her  eyes.  Ah  !  if  she  could  but  tell 
him — make  him  understand. 

"  Friedrich,  do  not  ask  the  Halberstadter,"  she  whis- 
pered. She  felt  that  it  would  be  a  cruel  irony  to  ask 
Christian  to  be  sponsor  to  Friedrich's  child — it  would  be  a 
mockery  of  his  pain,  of  his  renunciation,  and  a  hidden  out- 
rage to  Friedrich  himself,  though  he  would  never  know  it. 

"  You  go  too  far,"  he  burst  out  angrily,  "  Your  dislike 
of  the  Halberstadter  makes  you  unjust.  The  child  is  my 
child  after  all,  and  if  I  choose  to  assert  my  authority,  I 
can  do  as  I  will." 

She  nodded.  "  Yes,  the  child  is  your  child  after  all," 
she  said  in  a  strange,  quiet  voice. 

"  So  you  consent  ?  That  is  like  your  gentleness,  sweet 
Bess,"  he  said,  and  bending,  kissed  her  on  the  brow; 
"  and  now  I  go  to  write  to  Christian,  to  acquaint  him  with 
the  honour  I  would  pay  him,"  he  added,  and  left  her. 

For  a  long  time  she  lay  there  silent.  The  casement 
stood  open,  and  from  the  Lange  Voorhout  came  the 
sound  of  voices  and  laughter  and  the  rumbling  of  a 
carosse.  A  light  breeze  stirred  the  velvet  window-cur- 
tain, and  a  freshness  of  spring  was  wafted  in  from  the 
trim  garden.  A  bird  twittered  in  the  lime-trees,  where 
the  foliage  wrought  a  delicate  tracery  beneath  the  clear 
azure  of  the  spring  sky. 

"  The  child  is  his  child  after  all,"  she  repeated  slowly 
to  herself.  "  Christian — Christian  !  Will  you  know  that 
tis  not  /  who  deal  you  this  stab  ?  Will  you  know  that 
/  do  not  mock  you  at  least  ? " 

For  many  months  but  scant  direct  news  of  the  Hal- 
berstadter came  to  the  Hague.  He  was  in  Brunswick, 
and  had  issued  a  manifesto  calling  to  arms  all  able-bodied 
men.  The  Protestant  princes  affected  ignorance  of  his 
doings,  though  the  Halberstadter  declared  that  he  armed 


THE  HERO  OF  FLEURUS  303 

in  defence  of  the  threatened  Reformed  faith,  and  ap- 
pealed to  all  the  Protestant  rulers  to  aid  him.  By 
December  1622  he  had  a  troop  of  two  thousand  men, 
recruited  chiefly  from  Halberstadt  and  Brunswick,  and 
both  armed  and  victualled  at  the  Halberstadter's  expense. 

He  was  confronted  with  the  refusal  of  the  Landgraf  to 
allow  him  passage  through  Hesse,  and  of  his  own  brother, 
Friedrich  Ulrich  of  Brunswick,  who  forbade  him  to  march 
through  his  territories.  He  saw  clearly  that  to  join 
Mansfeld  in  the  Palatinate,  which  was  of  course  his  object, 
he  must  fight  his  way  through  Protestant  countries,  as 
though  his  path  had  been  set  in  an  enemy's  lands.  Now 
he  threw  off  the  disguise  and  openly  avowed  that  he 
fought  in  the  cause  of  Friedrich,  King  of  Bohemia ;  that 
his  first  object  was  to  save  the  Palatinate,  and  that  in 
Friedrich's  cause  was  included  the  hope  of  Protestantism. 
Hitherto  his  motto  had  been :  "  Gottes  Freund,  des  Pfaffen 
Feind,"  but  now  he  bound  a  woman's  glove  on  his  helmet 
with  the  device :  "  Tout  pour  Dieu  et  pour  elle."  Thus 
Christian  of  Brunswick  proclaimed  himself  Elizabeth 
Stuart's  champion,  and  thus  she  learned  that  he  still 
dreamed  of  conquering  Friedrich's  kingdom  for  her  sake, 
and  she  thrilled  remembering  when  he  had  taken  the 
glove  which  he  wore  so  proudly  on  his  helmet.  It  seemed 
to  her  that,  though  he  sent  no  word,  yet  this  was  his 
message — a  message  of  forgiveness.  Peradventure,  it 
told,  too,  of  a  mad  hope  in  his  heart — had  he  not  said : 
"  And  if  I  reconquer  a  kingdom  for  him  — ? "  Resolutely 
she  put  the  thought  from  her;  she  had  told  him  she 
could  drive  no  such  bargains  with  destiny ! 

The  Halberstadter  stormed  through  the  land,  captured 
Soest,  and  threatened  comfortable  ecclesiastical  cities.  "  If 
your  worships  fear  fire,  rapine,  and  death,  pay  me  a 
hundred  thousand  thalers,"  he  told  the  Jesuits  of  Pader- 
born,  and  they  opened  their  gates,  implored  for  mercy, 
and  paid  the  Halberstadter  his  hundred  thousand  thalers 
to  leave  them  in  peace. 

He  thundered  on,  took  Miinster,  received  more  gold  in 
return  for  hindering  his  men  from  plundering  the  wealthy 


304  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

town,  and,  like  a  scourge,  he  passed  on  triumphant.  It 
was  not  his  plan  to  settle  into  some  impregnable  fortress ; 
he  must  gather  gold  and  recruit  men,  and  join  Mansfeld 
in  the  Palatinate.  Already  his  name  inspired  such  terror 
that  when  he  appeared  before  a  town  the  citizens,  of  their 
own  accord,  opened  their  gates  and  sued  for  mercy,  offering 
him  solid  compensation  for  his  renunciation  of  plunder. 

Now  the  aim  of  the  whole  Catholic  army  was  to  crush 
this  reckless  enemy  with  his  small  force  of  some  three 
thousand  men,  Anholt,  the  Bavarian  General,  pursued 
him  and  drove  him  back  into  Westphalia.  Even  the 
Halberstadter  dared  not  attack  so  mighty  a  foe,  and  by 
April  he  was  forced  to  retreat  to  Lippstadt ;  but  in  May 
he  suddenly  appeared  before  the  walls  of  the  ecclesiastical 
town  of  Fulda,  commandeered  four  hundred  thousand 
thalers,  and  then  marched  on  and  invaded  the  bishopric 
of  Mainz.  A  panic  seized  the  Bishop's  garrison  in  Ursel, 
and  they  evacuated  the  town  without  offering  resistance 
to  the  Halberstadter,  who  made  a  triumphal  entry  and 
decided  to  spend  a  few  weeks  in  Ursel  to  repose  his  weary 
troops.  But  the  news  that  Anholt  with  a  large  force  had 
arrived  in  the  neighbourhood  caused  him  to  push  on,  in 
the  hope  of  capturing  the  town  of  Mainz.  Here,  too,  both 
garrison  and  inhabitants  fled  at  his  approach,  and  he 
occupied  a  deserted,  though  well-provisioned,  town.  So 
far  Christian  with  his  handful  of  men  had  carried  all 
before  him,  and  he  sent  a  glowing  account  of  his  success 
to  his  sister  at  the  Hague,  who  hurried  to  the  Queen  with 
the  glad  tidings. 

But  Tilly  with  a  Bavarian  army,  and  Cordova  with  a 
large  Spanish  force,  were  at  Aschaffenburg,  thus  blocking 
the  road  between  the  Halberstadter  at  Mainz  and  Mansfeld, 
now  at  Mannheim.  Towards  the  middle  of  June  Tilly 
advanced  past  Frankfurt.  The  Halberstadter  knew  him- 
self to  be  outnumbered  by  at  least  six  to  one,  but  he  pre- 
pared for  battle,  instead  of  slipping  across  the  river  Main 
and  making  for  the  Palatinate.  His  council  of  war  prayed 
him  to  follow  this  course,  but  who  could  expect  the 
Halberstadter  voluntarily  to  order  a  manoauvre  which 


THE  HERO  OF  FLEURUS  305 

would  appear  so  like  flight  ?  He  believed  that  God 
would  give  victory  to  the  champion  of  Elizabeth  Stuart, 
and  the  danger  of  the  enterprise  but  added  to  his  zest. 
Then,  too,  his  army  had  grown,  for  several  thousand  men 
had  flocked  to  his  standard  during  the  last  weeks,  and  he 
longed  to  pit  his  prowess  against  such  famed  commanders 
as  Tilly  and  Cordova.  He  left  Mainz,  and  attacked  the 
Imperialists  near  the  township  of  Hochst.  Immediately 
Tilly's  well-directed  fire  swept  the  Halberstadter's  cavalry 
from  the  field,  and  the  Brunswick  infantry  was  thrown 
into  disorder  by  their  comrades'  rout ;  also  the  three 
cannon,  which  was  Christian's  whole  artillery,  proved 
useless :  one  gun  burst,  the  other  was  immediately 
shattered  by  the  enemy,  and  the  third  was  no  match  for 
the  steady  fire  of  Tilly's  numerous  cannon.  Nevertheless, 
for  six  hours  the  desperate  hand-to-hand  fight  continued, 
before  the  Halberstadter  would  sanction  the  withdrawal 
of  his  troops,  and  when  he  at  last  consented,  the  dis- 
couraged, weary  soldiery  were  incapable  of  orderly  retreat ; 
they  broke  line  and  fled,  and  were  hewn  down  by  the 
Bavarians  and  Spaniards.  Christian  forded  the  river  and 
endeavoured  to  rally  his  scattered  troops  for  another 
attack ;  but  seeing  that  his  army  was  decimated  to  half 
the  original  number,  he  at  length  decided  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  fact  that  Tilly  had  ceased  to  pursue  him,  and 
marched  southwards  to  join  Mansfeld.  For  Tilly,  fearful 
that  the  "  mad  Halberstadter's  "  retreat  was  only  a  feint, 
had  left  the  road  to  Mannheim  open.  The  battle  of 
Hochst  was  a  crushing  defeat  for  Christian,  and  yet  the 
object  of  many  months  of  strategy  was  thereby  attained  : 
Christian  and  Mansfeld  were  together,  and  the  Imperialists 
were  confronted  by  a  powerful  antagonist  indeed. 

Friedrich  could  no  longer  endure  the  enforced  inaction 
in  the  Hague,  when  he  heard  that  the  armies  of  the 
Halberstadter  and  of  Mansfeld  were  united.  It  meant 
that  a  campaign  was  imminent  which  would  decide  the 
fate  of  the  Palatinate  and  the  future  of  Protestantism.  It 
was  evident  that  James's  Ambassador  in  Vienna  was  being 
duped  by  the  Emperor,  whose  continued  procrastination 

u 


306  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

had  at  length  undeceived  King  James.  Obviously  Ferdi- 
nand had  no  intention  either  of  removing  the  ban  from 
Friedrich,  or  of  restoring  the  Palatinate  to  him.  A 
friendly  letter  received  about  this  time  by  Elizabeth  from 
the  Infanta  Isabella,  superscribed :  "To  the  Countess 
Palatine,  Princess  of  Great  Britain,"  confirmed  the  im- 
pression that  the  Imperial  party  was  decided  to  withhold 
from  her  even  the  title  of  Electress.  Further  negotiations 
were  useless — the  sword  must  decide. 

Friedrich  left  the  Hague,  and,  disguised  as  a  peasant, 
journeyed  to  the  army.  It  was  a  perilous  undertaking, 
for  he  had  to  pass  through  large  tracts  of  country  held  by 
the  enemy,  and  he  was  constantly  stopped  and  questioned 
by  patrolling  Imperialists.  Once  at  nightfall  in  a  village 
hostelry  he  was  interrupted  at  supper  by  a  company  of 
Bavarians,  who  invited  the  young  peasant  to  drink  with 
them. 

"  What  smooth  hands  the  youth  has  got ! "  they  said 
suspiciously.  "  Are  you  a  gallant  in  disguise,  perchance, 
Master  Yokel  ? " 

But  Friedrich  succeeded  in  making  them  believe  that 
he  had  been  ill  for  months  in  France,  and  was  now  return- 
ing to  his  family  near  Heidelberg. 

"  Are  you  a  heretic,  and  a  friend  to  the  fool  Friedrich  ?  " 
they  asked,  and  when  he  hesitated  they  bade  him  drink 
to  the  downfall  of  all  heretics,  usurpers,  and  enemies 
of  Austria.  He  complied ;  yet  this  did  not  satisfy  his 
tormentors,  and  they  bid  him  vow  that  Friedrich  of  the 
Palatinate  was  no  lord  of  his,  but  a  sorry  knave  and  a 
"  sheep's  head."  To  this  the  unfortunate  King  answered 
with  so  forcible  an  assertion  of  Friedrich's  imbecility, 
wrongheadedness,  and  weakness  that  the  half-drunken 
soldiery  let  him  go,  after  clapping  him  roughly  on  the 
back,  and  proclaiming  him  to  be  a  right  good  fellow 
holding  sound  opinions. 

He  reached  the  army  at  Germersheim  in  the  Palatinate, 
where  he  found  the  confederate  generals,  the  Halber- 
stadter,  Mansfeld,  and  the  Markgraf  of  Baden-Durlach, 
united  in  name,  but  entirely  divided  in  spirit.  Friedrich's 


THE  HERO  OF  FLEURUS  307 

advent  did  little  to  improve  matters,  though  he  assumed 
the  nominal  command  of  the  three  contingents. 

The  Imperial  forces  meanwhile  had  withdrawn  south- 
wards, and  Friedrich  decided  to  pursue  them  into  Alsatia. 
Here  he  found  a  devastated  country;  the  plundered  villages 
were  smoking  ruins,  the  peasants  had  fled,  the  Imperialists 
had  carried  away  all  provisions.  At  the  town  of  Zabern 
the  Protestant  army  came  upon  the  first  resistance  to 
their  unhindered  pursuit.  The  Halberstadter  and  Mans- 
feld  laid  siege  to  Zabern  which,  though  bravely  defended 
by  the  Imperial  garrison  and  the  citizens,  would  have  been 
easily  captured,  when  to  the  surprise  and  consternation 
both  of  the  generals  and  of  the  whole  army,  Friedrich 
suddenly  commanded  the  cessation  of  hostilities  and 
called  a  council  of  war.  He  now  announced  that  he  had 
received  despatches  from  the  English  and  Danish  envoys 
in  Vienna,  and  that  the  Emperor  had  declared  he  could 
not  even  consider  the  petition  of  a  prince  in  arms  against 
him.  Friedrich  informed  the  Council  that  the  envoys 
having  implored  him  to  abandon  the  campaign,  he  had 
decided  to  disband  his  army,  to  dismiss  Mansfeld  and  the 
Halberstadter  from  his  service,  and  to  throw  himself  upon 
the  Emperor's  mercy. 

So  unwarrantable  a  desertion  on  the  brink  of  success 
seemed  incredible  to  the  Halberstadter  and  Mansfeld ;  but 
when  they  saw  that  Friedrich,  with  the  obstinacy  of  the 
weak,  intended  to  adhere  to  this  decision  they  turned 
from  him  in  scorn. 

"  Let  him  go  where  he  will !  "  cried  Mansfeld  bitterly. 
"  I  had  liefer  serve  a  knave  than  a  weakling."  Chris- 
tian of  Brunswick  said  nothing ;  he  walked  away  from 
the  tent  where  the  council  of  war  had  been  held ; 
for  two  days  none  saw  him,  and  it  was  bruited  abroad 
that  the  mad  Halberstadter  had  killed  himself  in  his 
anger  at  King  Friedrich's  desertion.  But  on  the  third 
morning  he  came  quietly  into  Mansfeld's  tent,  and  opened 
a  discussion  on  a  question  of  camp  discipline,  as  though 
nothing  untoward  had  occurred. 

The  Halberstadter  and  Mansfeld  found  themselves  in  a 


308  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

desperate  strait ;  dismissed  from  the  service  of  the  man 
in  whose  name  they  had  undertaken  the  campaign,  they 
had  become  bandits,  marauders  in  an  impoverished 
country,  and  being  without  funds  to  pay  their  men 
they  could  not  disband  the  army.  They  proposed 
now  to  sell  their  swords  and  their  troops  to  the 
highest  bidder.  King  Friedrich  meanwhile  was  safe, 
though  an  unwelcome  guest,  at  Sedan  with  the  Duke 
of  Bouillon. 

The  Protestant  adversary  now  paralysed,  the  Im- 
perialists returned  to  the  Palatinate,  seized  Mannheim, 
wreaked  their  vengeance  upon  the  defenceless  inhabitants, 
burned,  pillaged,  harried  the  whole  countryside,  and  laid 
siege  to  Heidelberg. 

Mansfeld,  indifferent  as  to  whom  he  served  so  long  as 
he  could  practise  the  remunerative  art  of  warfare,  entered 
into  negotiations  with  the  Emperor ;  but  Ferdinand,  not 
needing  reinforcements  at  that  time,  refused  the  offer 
of  the  Protestant  ex-leader.  Louis  XIII.  sought  to  gain 
both  Mansfeld  and  Christian,  to  employ  them  against  the 
turbulent  Huguenots,  but  the  Halberstadter  vehemently 
refused  to  draw  sword  against  his  co-religionists.  The 
Infanta  Isabella,  Governess  of  the  Netherlands,  offered 
two  hundred  thousand  crowns  for  the  two  generals  and 
their  army ;  but  Mansfeld  found  the  sum  insufficient,  and 
Christian  would  not  fight  against  Maurice  of  Orange  and 
a  Protestant  army.  There  remained  the  Duke  of  Bouillon 
at  Sedan,  who  was  secretly  gathering  together  all  mal- 
contents to  join  in  the  Huguenots'  struggle  against  order 
and  Catholicism  under  the  King  of  France.  Maurice 
of  Orange,  hard  pressed  in  the  Netherlands,  offered  six 
hundred  thousand  gulden  to  Mansfeld  and  Christian. 
The  besieged  town  of  Bergen  op  Zoom  could  hold  out  but 
little  longer  against  Spinola  and  Cordova  with  their  large 
Spanish  forces,  and  Maurice  realised  that  even  genius  and 
well-trained  troops  could  not  contend  for  long  against 
overwhelming  numbers.  But  Cordova  blocked  the  way 
between  the  Netherlands  and  Alsatia,  and  the  Halber- 
stadter and  Mansfeld,  not  considering  their  forces  sufficient 


THE  HERO  OF  FLEURUS  309 

to  risk  an  encounter  with  so  large  an  army,  decided  to 
march  to  Sedan. 

On  their  way  thither  they  made  a  pleasant  little  detour 
on  the  French  frontier,  sacked  the  Abbey  of  Verdun,  and 
beleaguered  Pont  a  Mousson.  There  was  panic  in  France, 
and  in  Paris  it  was  said  that  the  "  German  robbers  "  were 
making  for  the  capital  itself.  Bouillon  would  join  his 
secret  allies,  and  the  whole  of  France  would  quickly  fall 
into  their  hands.  To  hinder  this  dangerous  union  of 
Mansfeld  and  Bouillon,  Louis  XIII.  despatched  an  envoy 
to  Mansfeld  offering  him  an  enormous  bribe  to  desert  the 
Protestant  cause  and  enter  the  service  of  the  King  of 
France.  Mansfeld  hesitated  ;  his  troops  were  on  the  point 
of  mutiny,  for  they  had  lately  reaped  but  a  scant  harvest  of 
plunder  from  the  impoverished  countries  they  had  occupied. 
The  Halberstadter,  albeit  he  presently  remained  before 
Pont  a  Mousson  with  Mansfeld,  refused  to  continue  a 
course  of  dissimulation  and  indecision,  and  announced  his 
intention  of  leading  his  own  troops  direct  to  Sedan  to  join 
Bouillon.  Mansfeld  discovering  that,  while  the  negotia- 
tions between  himself  and  the  French  Crown  hung  fire, 
there  was  an  understanding  between  France  and  Cordova, 
and  when  he  heard  that  the  latter  was  marching  to  Pont 
a  Mousson,  decided  to  have  done  with  France,  both 
Catholic  King  and  Huguenot  Duke,  and  to  hurry  to  the 
aid  of  Maurice  of  Orange  in  the  Netherlands.  The  Hal- 
berstadter agreed  to  this,  and  the  approach  of  the  enemy 
Cordova  having  banished  the  mutinous  spirit  in  Mansfeld's 
army,  the  two  camps  were  raised,  and  the  Protestant  army 
commenced  a  forced  march  northwards.  By  the  end  of 
August  1622  the  Halberstadter  arrived  at  Fleurus  on  the 
borders  of  theSpanish  Netherlands, and  found  thatCordova, 
having  outmarched  him  on  the  eastward  line,  had  effectually 
blocked  the  road  to  Maurice  of  Orange.  Mansfeld  endea- 
voured to  effect  a  truce,  and  offered  Cordova  a  bribe  to  allow 
him  to  pass;  but  the  Spaniard  refused,  well  knowing  that  the 
bribe,  though  alluring  on  paper,  had  not  its  counterpart  in 
solid  gold,  for  neither  the  Halberstadter  nor  Mansfeld 
owned  a  quarter  of  the  sum  offered.  It  was  an  unpleasant 


310  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

situation  for  the  Protestant  leaders.  Cordova's  army  was 
not  only  larger  than  theirs,  but  he  had  already  seized  the 
best  strategic  position.  Also  he  had  a  number  of  abso- 
lutely fresh  troops  recently  despatched  to  his  aid  from 
Holland  by  Spinola,  whereas  the  Protestants  were  not  only 
weary  from  their  enforced  march,  but  again  on  the  point 
of  mutiny.  Cordova  had  seven  cannon,  and  there  were 
but  two  heavy  guns  with  the  Protestant  army. 

On  the  28th  of  August,  at  break  of  day,  Mansfeld  sur- 
prised the  Spanish  camp.  Though  he  attacked  repeatedly 
and  with  dauntless  courage,  he  was  beaten  back  with  fear- 
ful loss.  Hereupon  the  Halberstadter  with  his  cavalry  fell 
upon  the  Spanish  rear-guard,  and  though  repulsed  four 
times,  he  finally  succeeded  in  routing  the  entire  Spanish 
army;  for  Cordova,  thinking  that  such  reckless  courage 
must  surely  be  inspired  by  the  arrival  of  unexpected  rein- 
forcements, gave  the  order  to  retreat,  and  pursued  by  the 
Halberstadter,  the  flower  of  the  Spanish  forces  fled,  aban- 
doning cannon,  ammunition,  baggage,  and  the  well-filled 
treasure-carts.  Cordova's  army  would  have  been  anni- 
hilated had  not  the  timely  arrival  of  three  thousand  fresh 
Imperial  troops,  under  General  Gouchier,  caused  the 
Halberstadter  to  relinquish  the  pursuit. 

It  was  a  glorious  victory  for  the  Protestants,  a  victory 
won  not  alone  over  overwhelming  numbers,  but  won  in 
spite  of  weariness,  discontent,  and  insubordination.  It  had 
been  the  Halberstadter's  fiery  courage  which  had  inspired 
his  men  with  magnificent  heroism,  and  when  at  the  end  of 
the  battle  the  officers  gathered  round  him,  their  enthusiasm 
was  loudly  expressed. 

The  Halberstadter  stood  leaning  against  the  pole  of  his 
tent,  his  face  was  deathly  pale,  and  his  brown  eyes  were 
wild  and  brilliant.  His  buff-leather  jerkin  was  blood- 
stained, and  his  steel  breastplate  dented  and  tarnished. 
He  had  removed  his  helmet,  its  weight  had  left  a  red  weal 
across  his  brow,  and  his  short-cropped,  brown  hair  was 
dank  with  sweat.  With  his  right  hand  he  clasped  the 
tentpole  convulsively,  his  left  hand  was  hidden  in  the 
folds  of  his  sky-blue  baldric.  He  stood  silent  while  the 


THE  HERO  OF  FLEURUS  311 

officers  praised  his  splendid  dash  and  prowess.  Offended 
by  his  taciturnity,  they  whispered  that  the  mad  Halber- 
stadter had  grown  madder  than  ever — a  great  captain, 
surely,  but  a  madman,  they  said.  Now  into  the  crowd  of 
officers  a  short,  thick-set  man  pushed  his  way,  a  man 
whose  large  head  and  misshapen  shoulders  gave  him  a 
grotesque  appearance,  but  whose  sombre,  sneering  face 
banished  mockery  and  evoked  a  sense  of  fear  in  his  be- 
holders. The  officers  fell  back,  saluting  him  respectfully. 

"  Is  his  Highness  of  Brunswick  here  ?  "  he  said  in  the 
melodious  quiet  voice  which  always  surprised  those  who 
first  met  with  Ernest  Mansfeld,  the  bastard  son  of  a  noble- 
man and  a  dissolute  camp-follower,  a  woman  who  had  borne 
the  ominous  name  of  Dame  Krieg  Krieg,  a  strange  appella- 
tion enough  for  the  mother  of  a  man  destined  to  earn  his 
life  and  renown  by  the  profession  of  war.  Mansfeld  came  to 
the  Halberstadter,  and  a  smile  of  singular  sweetness  lit  his 
harsh  features — that  same  unexpected  smile  which  had 
perhaps  explained  the  fascination  of  the  coarse,  ill-favoured 
camp-follower  over  many  a  haughty  noble. 

"  My  Lord  Duke  of  Brunswick,"  Mansfeld  said,  and 
stretched  out  both  hands  to  the  silent  man,  "  the  honour  of 
this  day  is  yours  alone  !  I  can  claim  no  part  in  the  winning 
of  the  battle  of  Fleurus.  Give  me  your  hands,  my  lord, 
that  I  may  have  the  honour  of  a  brave  man's  touch ! " 

Slowly  the  Halberstadter  unclasped  his  hold  of  the 
tentpole  and  reached  out  his  right  hand  to  Mansfeld. 
The  hunchback  stood  with  both  hands  outstretched,  and 
though  he  gripped  the  Halberstadter's  right  hand  warmly, 
in  his  generous  enthusiasm  he  would  have  taken  Christian's 
left  hand  as  well,  and  his  face  darkened  as  the  Halber- 
stadter stood  seemingly  unresponsive  to  his  warmth.  He 
was  always  suspicious  of  insult,  this  bastard,  who  had 
too  often  drunk  the  bitterness  of  humiliation,  and  the 
slightest  unintentional  coldness  tasted  as  gall  to  him. 

"  I  came  to  congratulate  your  Highness ;  I  see  my 
intent  is  misconstrued,"  he  said  haughtily,  and,  dropping 
the  Halberstadter's  hand,  he  would  have  turned  away. 
Christian's  apathy  vanished. 


312  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  I  thank  you,  my  comrade  and  commander  ! "  he  cried, 
and  his  voice  trembled  as  though  the  tears  had  risen  in 
his  throat.  "  Honour  from  so  great  a  captain  is  more  to 
me  than  a  king's  favour." 

Mansfeld's  face  softened,  and  once  more  he  held  out 
both  his  hands  impulsively. 

"  I  cannot  give  you  my  left  hand,  sir,"  said  Christian 
in  a  low  voice ;  "  I  am  a  trifle  wounded." 

He  swayed  suddenly,  and  would  have  fallen  had  not 
Mansfeld  supported  him.  They  led  him  into  his  tent 
and  gave  him  wine. 

"  Gentlemen  !  I  crave  your  pardon  for  so  womanish 
a  spectacle ! "  cried  the  Halberstadter ;  "  I  was  weary, 
and  I  believe  near  to  swooning.  I  am  restored  now, 
but  I  pray  you  send  for  the  surgeon ;  my  hand  needs 
binding  up." 

He  lifted  his  left  hand  out  of  the  folds  of  his  baldric, 
and  even  the  war-inured  men  around  him  shuddered,  for 
that  which  had  been  a  hand  was  now  but  a  lump  of 
blackened  and  bleeding  flesh.  Mansfeld,  like  many  a 
strong  man,  had  all  a  woman's  compassion  for  physical 
suffering.  With  a  sure  and  gentle  touch  he  took  that 
mutilated  hand.  He  bade  them  bring  him  water,  and 
he  washed  away  some  of  the  ghastly  crust  of  blood  and 
grime.  He  knew  well  enough  the  excruciating  agony 
which  the  Halberstadter  endured;  knew,  too,  the  price 
which  Christian  was  to  pay  for  the  victory  of  Fleurus. 
Softly,  as  a  woman  speaks  to  a  sick  child,  he  spoke  to 
Christian,  and  when  the  question  he  dreaded  came,  he 
answered  steadily. 

"  Will  my  hand  heal  in  a  few  weeks,  Mansfeld  ?  You, 
who  know  such  things,  tell  me,  will  it  be  covered  with 
unsightly  scars  ?  "  As  he  spoke  the  Halberstadter's  eyes 
wandered  to  his  helmet,  which  lay  on  the  rude  camp- 
table,  that  helmet  with  the  woman's  glove  and  the  device : 
"  Tout  pour  Dieu  et  pour  elle." 

"  Your  hand  will  not  be  scarred,"  Mansfeld  answered ; 
and  Christian  did  not  see  how  the  cruel,  dishonest  con- 
dottiere  paid  him  the  tribute  of  tears. 


THE  HERO  OF  FLEURUS  313 

"  Better  death  than  to  be  made  hideous  in  a  woman's 
sight,"  cried  the  Halberstadter,  trying  piteously  to  speak 
lightly,  despite  his  pain ;  and  again  the  brave  cheerfulness 
of  his  tone  caused  Mansfeld  to  turn  away. 

The  camp  surgeon,  a  grave  personage  who  had  learned 
his  skill  in  the  school  of  Ambroise  Pare$,  the  famed 
chirurgeon  of  Henri  II.,  came  to  the  tent.  He  questioned 
the  Halberstadter  quickly. 

"  When  got  your  Highness  this  hurt  ?  At  the  outset 
of  the  battle  !  Hum — hum — how  could  you  go  on,  your 
Highness  ?  Felt  you  no  pain  ?  You  had  no  thought  for 
it !  There — grip  my  Lord  Mansfeld's  arm.  I  must  hurt 
you."  He  probed  the  bleeding  flesh  with  his  sharp  knife. 
The  Halberstadter  set  his  teeth. 

"  It  is  but  a  little  wound,  sir,"  he  said  faintly.  "  I 
doubt  not  'twill  heal  at  once  if  you  pour  some  salve  upon 
it."  The  surgeon's  eyes  met  Mansfeld's. 

"  Tell  him,"  the  condottiere  whispered  ;  "  the  hero  of 
Fleurus  can  face  anything — even  this." 

"  My  Lord  Duke,"  the  surgeon  said  gravely,  "  this  is  no 
little  hurt." 

"  Will  it  leave  my  hand  unsightly  ? "  Christian  asked, 
and  again  his  glance  rested  on  the  woman's  glove  in  his 
helmet. 

"  Nay,  your  Highness,  you  will  have  no  left  hand 
more,"  the  surgeon  answered  huskily. 

The  Halberstadter  looked  at  him,  speechless,  for  a 
moment,  then  he  rose  stiffly  and  stood  quivering,  tense, 
like  some  hunted  animal  at  bay  and  threatened  by  the 
outrage  of  man's  cruelty. 

"  Say — that — again,"  he  whispered  at  last  hoarsely. 
"  I  did  not  understand — you  said  ?  " 

"  I  said  that  no  human  skill  could  heal  your  hand ;  the 
flesh  is  fouled,  and  if  I  leave  your  hand  upon  your  arm 
the  corruption  will  spread,"  the  surgeon  answered. 

Very  slowly  the  Halberstadter  moved  across  the  tent 
to  where  his  helmet  lay  upon  the  rude  table,  and  stood 
there  with  his  back  turned  to  the  surgeon,  Mansfeld,  and 
the  officers,  so  that  no  man  saw  his  face.  The  surgeon 


314  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

made  a  movement  as  though  to  go  to  him,  but  Mansfeld 
caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"  Leave  him  be,"  he  muttered ;  "  he  is  fighting  a  more 
desperate  battle  than  even  he  hath  ever  fought." 

After  a  few  moments  the  Halberstadter  turned.  His 
face  was  livid,  but  his  lips  were  firm. 

"  Is  there  no  other  way,  Mansfeld  ? "  he  asked  quietly. 
"  Is  there  no  pain  that  I  can  endure  which  will  save  me 
from  this  blemish  ?  Can  they  not  pour  gunpowder  into 
the  wound,  even  though  I  suffer  the  agony  of  hell,  can 
no  one  save  me  from  this  shame  ? " 

Mansfeld  shook  his  head,  and,  unabashed  by  the 
presence  of  the  officers,  he  let  the  tears  roll  down  his 
cheeks  now. 

"  There  is  no  other  way,  hero  of  Fleurus,"  he  said. 

"  Let  it  be  done  at  once,  then,"  the  Halberstadter  said. 
"  I  thank  you  for  your  courtesy  in  telling  me  immedi- 
ately, sir,"  he  added  calmly  to  the  surgeon. 

They  would  have  taken  him  to  the  Abbey  of  Fleurus, 
for  the  surgeon  said  that  the  quiet  of  a  comfortable 
dwelling-room  was  necessary  for  the  sufferer.  But  here 
the  Halberstadter  near  broke  down. 

"  Do  not  mew  me  in  a  closed  room ! "  he  pleaded. 
"  Mansfeld,  you  understand ;  tell  him  how  I  can  bear  all 
things,  but  not  to  be  put  in  a  sick-room  like  an  ailing 
woman.  I  am  not  ill ! "  he  cried ;  "  a  misfortune  hath 
befallen  me,  but  I  am  right  well."  He  who  undaunted 
could  face  mortal  agony,  could  not  face  the  degradation 
of  sickness. 

"  I  am  right  well,"  he  said.  "  If  this  thing  must  be 
done,  let  it  be  done  in  the  fresh  air  before  my  tent,  and 
let  me  have  the  trumpets  and  drums  to  sing  me  a  song 
of  war,  so  that  I  may  forget  to  wince  beneath  Master 
Baptist's  knife." 

"  Master  Surgeon,"  said  Mansfeld  gruffly,  "  you  must 
do  your  work  where  and  how  his  Highness  bids  you." 

They  set  a  chair  and  a  table  before  the  Halberstadter's 
tent,  and  as  the  sun  of  the  August  day  sank  in  fiery 
splendour,  the  hero  of  Fleurus  sat  there  with  Mansfeld 


THE  HERO  OF  FLEURUS  315 

holding  that  strong  right  hand  with  the  short  powerful 
thumb  and  the  long  pointed  fingers,  while  stretched  across 

the  table  was  the  left  arm  with  that  other  hand 

And  the  trumpets  and  drums  of  the  Protestant  army 
blazed  forth  in  a  triumph  for  the  glorious  victory  of 
Fleurus. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

FAREWELL 

THE  Countess  of  Nassau  craved  audience  of  her 
Majesty  of  Bohemia.  The  Queen  was  but  newly 
returned  from  riding  along  the  sands  of  Scheven- 
ingen  and  had  given  orders  to  be  undisturbed,  saying  she 
was  weary  and  would  rest  awhile.  She  marvelled  what 
should  bring  Sophie  of  Nassau  at  this  unwonted  hour. 
The  Halberstadter's  sister  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the 
house  on  the  Lange  Voorhout,  and  the  Queen  saw  her 
at  the  few  festivities  which  took  place  at  the  Hague 
since  the  war  had  begun,  but  after  the  Halberstadter's 
departure  a  certain  reserve  had  sprung  up  between  the 
two  ladies. 

"  Pray  her  Highness  to  await  me  a  short  span,  Alison," 
the  Queen  said.  "  I  will  dress  quickly  and  come  to  her." 
She  rose  from  the  couch  whereon  she  had  been  resting, 
and  donned  a  flowing  white  satin  skirt  and  that  little 
pelisse  of  azure  velvet  with  the  white  fur,  which  she  had 
worn  when  she  had  seen  the  Halberstadter  on  that 
summer  night,  which  was  ever  present  in  her  mind,  and 
yet  seemed  so  strangely  unreal  to  her. 

"  I  crave  your  pardon,  cousin,  if  I  have  kept  you 
waiting,"  the  Queen  said,  as  she  entered  the  oaken 
parlour. 

"  It  is  I  who  should  pray  forgivenness  for  coming  to 
your  Majesty  at  this  hour,"  Sophie  of  Nassau  said;  "  but 
I  have  neAvs  from  Germany  which  you  must  only  learn 
from  my  lips." 

"  You  bring  ill  tidings,  Sophie  ? "  the  Queen  said 
quickly,  and  her  face  grew  very  white.  "  Tell  me — I 
can  bear  all  things  save  the  slow  telling  of  disaster  which 
kindness  prompts !  Is  my  King  dead  ?  " 


816 


FAREWELL  317 

"  The  King !  Nay,  ma  cousine,"  the  Countess  answered, 
and  there  was  a  note  of  resentment  and  scorn  in  her 
voice ;  "  the  King  is  right  well  and  safe  at  Sedan  as  far 
as  I  know,  but  my  brother " 

"  Christian  !  what  ails  him  ?  Quick — tell  me  !  "  the 
Queen  cried,  and  her  voice  was  shrill  and  tremulous. 

"  He  is  sore  wounded,  madame.  There  has  been  a 
great  victory  at  Fleurus,  which  may  even  turn  the  tide 
of  misfortune  for  the  Protestants." 

"  What  of  Christian — I  care  no  jot  for  the  victory. 
Sophie,  tell  me — is  your  brother  dead  ? "  the  Queen 
interrupted  almost  fiercely. 

Slowly,  and  in  a  voice  choked  with  tears,  Sophie  of 
Nassau  told  her  of  the  battle  of  Fleurus,  of  how  the 
Halberstadter  had  won  the  day  by  his  splendid  dash  and 
valour,  of  how  the  mutinous  troopers  had  forgotten  their 
ill-will  in  ardent  enthusiasm  for  so  dauntless  a  leader, 
and  at  what  a  price  this  youth  of  twenty-three  summers 
had  won  the  victory. 

"  He  is  so  young  to  be  thus  maimed,"  she  finished 
piteously.  "  Oh  !  cousin,  it  always  seems  to  me  that  he 
is  still  a  boy — we  think  so  of  our  brothers.  Forgive  me, 
cousin — I  am  weak,  I  know,"  and  she  bent  her  head  and 
wept. 

The  Queen  said  no  word,  she  sat  there  as  one  struck 
motionless;  she  pressed  her  kerchief  hard  against  her 
lips,  and  her  eyes,  wild  and  strained,  gazed  out  at  the 
lime-trees  beyond  the  garden,  as  though  she  saw  some 
fearful  scene.  His  hand  that  she  had  loved  so — that 
white  strong  hand  with  the  blue  veins — his  hand  which 
had  held  her  to  him  on  that  summer  night. — She  turned 
sick  with  an  agony  of  comprehension,  not  alone  of  his 
physical  pain,  but  because  she  knew  that  he  would  deem 
himself  blemished  in  her  sight. 

"  Alack !  a  poor  maimed  thing  now  !  "  she  remembered 
he  had  once  said  of  a  man  whose  foot  bad  been  shot  off 
in  some  battle.  In  her  overwrought  mind  she  saw  the 
bleeding  stump  of  his  arm — she  saw  it  hacked,  and 
jagged,  and  fearful. 


318  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Suddenly  she  sprang  up.  "  How  far  is  Fleurus  from 
here  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  How  many  days  to  ride  ?  " 

Sophie  of  Nassau  looked  at  her  in  surprise  "  Fleurus  ? 
Five  or  six  days  to  ride,  I  should  say,"  she  answered 
wonderingly.  "  Would  you  send  a  messenger  to  my 
brother,  madame  ?  Ah  !  cousin,  if  you  would,  I  think  a 
word  from  you  would  be  a  surer  balsam  than  a  thousand 
essences." 

The  Queen  turned  away. 

"  I  would  go  myself  if  I  were  his  sister,"  she  said  in  a 
low,  uncertain  voice. 

"  What  use  should  I  be  in  a  rough  camp,  madame  ?  " 
asked  Sophie. 

"  Use !  use  ! "  the  Queen  turned  on  her.  "  What  use 
is  life  save  to  give  it  to  those  we  love  ?  "  All  the  bitter- 
ness of  unsanctioned  love  surged  in  her  heart.  His 
sister  would  blame  her  did  she  know  the  passion  which 
raged  in  her ;  his  sister,  who  gave  that  good,  peaceful 
affection  and  would  give  no  more,  would  blame  the 
woman  who  yearned  to  face  hardship — even  shame — 
only  to  be  able  to  give  to  the  man  she  loved.  She  knew 
that  the  joy  of  life  is  giving,  knew,  too,  that  she  was 
debarred  from  giving. 

"  You  will  not  go  ?  "  she  said. 

"  I  fear  me  Christian  would  scarce  welcome  me  in  his 
camp,"  Sophie  answered  with  a  little  smile. 

"  You  are  right,  perchance,"  the  Queen  answered.  She 
realised  at  that  moment  how  those  who  harbour  turbulent 
passion,  how  those  whom  God  has  made  vehement,  are 
usually  proved  wrong  by  the  quiet  wisdom  of  those  who 
care  less,  of  those  who  know,  as  the  world  deems  it,  how 
to  care  sensibly.  With  an  effort  she  calmed  herself 
outwardly. 

"  Tell  me  more  of  what  you  have  heard,"  she  said. 

Sophie  of  Nassau  told  her  that  Mansfeld's  letter  had 
been  brought  to  her  by  a  trusty  messenger  from  the  Pro- 
testant camp.  She  had  questioned  the  man  herself,  and 
he  had  told  her  many  things.  Christian  had  evidently 
been  in  a  strange  mood  for  many  months  before  the 


FAREWELL  319 

battle  of  Fleurus.  The  man  had  said  that  the  soldiers 
believed  his  Highness  seldom  slept,  for  the  torch  in  his 
tent  was  never  extinguished  till  the  dawn  brought  another 
light.  The  soldiers  had  sometimes  crept  near  his  tent 
and  watched  him  sitting,  moody  and  fierce,  gazing  out  into 
the  darkness,  or  sometimes  restlessly  pacing,  examining 
his  swords  or  burnishing  his  helmet  or  his  breastplate. 

"  But  this  is  not  all,"  she  said ;  "  I  hardly  can  tell  your 
Majesty — "  she  hesitated. 

"  Tell  me — I  am  no  little  maiden  to  be  spared  the 
knowledge  of  a  man's  life,"  the  Queen  said.  "  Besides,  I 
am  so — so  true  a  friend  to  you  and  Christian  that  I 
would  fain  know  all  I  can  of  him." 

"  He  sends  for  women  from  the  villages,  madame,  and 
they  come  for  the  most  part  right  willingly.  Well,  they 
are  brought  to  his  tent,  and  the  soldiers  hear  him  speak 
to  them,  and  then — then  he  orders  them  begone,  calls 
for  them  to  be  safely  guarded  out  of  the  camp.  They 
come  from  his  tent  laughing,  for  he  gives  them  gold  and 
trinkets  and  fair  words — but — but,"  she  hesitated  again. 
"  But  that  for  which  they  came — for  which  he  summoned 
them — that  is  not.  And  the  soldiers  say  that  the  mad 
Halberstadter  was  never  madder.  Alas  !  I,  too,  fear  that 
my  brother  is  insane." 

"  What !  do  you  say  so  too  ?  Mad  because  he  will  not 
sink  to  be  a  wanton  brute ! "  said  the  Queen  vehemently. 

"  Nay,"  Sophie  answered ;  "  but  mad  because,  having 
called  for  wanton  lust,  he  will  have  none  of  it." 

"  Oh  !  write  and  tell  him  that  I — Sophie — Sophie — 
tell  him  that  I  honour  him — that  I  trust  him — that  all 
my  heart  goes  out  to  him.  Tell  him  that  I  know — " 
She  flung  herself  down  in  her  chair,  and  covering  her 
face  with  her  hands,  wept  in  an  agony  of  tearing  sobs. 

Sophie  of  Nassau  came  to  her,  timidly  touched  her 
shoulder,  sought  to  draw  her  to  her,  but  Elizabeth  Stuart 
put  her  away.  Sophie  stood  there  silently.  The  Queen 
loved  Christian,  she  had  always  known  it,  with  that  swift 
insight  which  is  the  inborn  lore  of  woman ;  yet  she 
accounted  this  desperate  grieving  to  be  almost  unseemly. 


320  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  My  brother  is  not  dead,  cousin,"  she  whispered  at 
length. 

"  Worse  for  him,  tell  him  that  I  know  that — but  tell 
him  that  I  give  him  no  pity,"  the  Queen  answered 
brokenly ;  but  she  lifted  her  head  proudly  again  as  she 
spoke  the  strange  words. 

"  No  pity  ?  Surely,  cousin,  all  the  world  must  pity  a 
youth  thus  stricken,"  said  Sophie  of  Nassau. 

"  Tell  Christian  that  I  can  never  pity  where  I  honour. 
Oh  !  you  cannot  understand  !  But  tell  him  that  I  should 
never  dare  to  pity  him,"  the  Queen  answered. 

"  I  will  write  him  your  strange  message,  Madame  ma 
cousine,"  Sophie  said  coldly,  and,  after  sweeping  the 
Queen  a  profound  curtsey,  she  withdrew. 

Evil  tidings  came  thick  and  fast  to  the  Hague. 
Heidelberg  had  fallen;  Tilly  held  both  castle  and  town. 
The  treasures  garnered  there  for  generations  had  been 
sent  to  Munich,  and  the  books  of  the  famous  library, 
packed  in  one  hundred  and  eighty-four  strong  kists,  were 
being  despatched  to  Rome  by  Maximilian  of  Bavaria  as  a 
gift  to  the  Pope.  Holland,  too,  was  in  a  sorry  plight ; 
Bergen  op  Zoom,  it  was  said,  could  hold  out  little  longer ; 
even  Maurice  of  Orange  dared  not  attack  Spinola's  over- 
whelming numbers ;  and  Holland  trembled  at  the  possi- 
bility of  an  Imperial  and  Spanish  occupation.  The  Dutch 
cursed  the  poor  spirit  of  Friedrich  of  Bohemia ;  he  and 
his  army  had  been  a  good  decoy,  and  had  diverted  at 
least  a  portion  of  the  Imperial  forces,  and  now  the  whole 
of  the  enemy's  strength  was  directed  against  Maurice  of 
Orange.  Only  one  hope  remained — Mansfeld  and  the 
Halberstadter's  army.  Would  they  reach  Holland  in 
time  to  save  Bergen  op  Zoom  ? 

The  King  wrote  announcing  his  return  to  the  Hague. 
He  expressed  his  pleasure  at  hearing  the  Halberstadter's 
wound  was  healing.  He  wrote  that  immediately  after 
Christian's  hand  had  been  amputated  in  the  camp 
at  Fleurus,  a  trumpeter  from  the  enemy  had  come 
in,  bringing  a  proposal  from  Cordova  that  Christian  and 


FAREWELL  321 

Mansfeld  should  surrender  and  throw  in  their  lot  with 
the  Imperialists ;  and  that  the  Halberstadter  had  re- 
turned the  proud  answer :  "  I  have  but  one  arm  now, 
but  it  is  my  sword  arm,  and  with  that  I  shall  ever  fight 
for  my  God  and  my  Queen  only."  The  King  added : 
"  God  knows  !  I  love  him  as  a  brother."  Elizabeth  Stuart 
smiled  a  little  rueful  smile  when  she  read  this.  Fried- 
rich's  brotherly  love  had  not  dissuaded  him  from  dis- 
missing the  Halberstadter  in  the  midst  of  a  campaign ; 
had  not  prevented  him  from  turning  the  man  he  "  loved 
as  a  brother"  into  a  condottiere,  practically  a  brigand 
captain  bound  to  a  gang  of  robbers. 

With  terror  she  realised  that  she  would  fain  have  had  it 
that  the  King  should  remain  at  Sedan — away  from  her. 
She  asked  herself  if  she  had  indeed  sunk  so  deep  into  the 
sands  of  passion  that  she  had  no  longer  either  tenderness  or 
true  liking  for  Friedrich.  She  schooled  herself  to  be  glad 
at  his  return — he  was  unfortunate  and  unhappy,  she  must 
give  him  a  measure  of  joy  whatever  it  might  cost  her. 
She  knew  that  he,  too,  dreaded  the  return  to  indebted 
penury;  he  had  even  written  how,  before  certain  monies 
had  been  paid  to  her  from  England,  he  had  feared  a 
sojourn  in  the  debtor's  prison  of  the  Hague.  No,  she 
would  not  fail  him,  would  not  for  honour's  sake  and  for 
pity.  She  had  a  wealth  of  pity  for  Friedrich,  pity  which 
she  could  not  even  associate  with  the  Halberstadter. 

Then  when  the  King  returned,  her  heart  went  out  to 
him  in  a  glow  of  generous  affection.  He  was  so  changed, 
so  worn,  so  white  and  hollow-eyed,  that  she  loved  him 
with  tenderness,  and  felt  it  no  disloyalty  to  Christian 
to  give  love  to  this  sad,  broken  being — to  him  who  was 
her  "  man,"  after  all. 

Alas !  those  who  live  a  double  life  in  their  hearts  die 
a  double  death  of  agony.  No  one  knows  how  torturing 
a  task  loyalty  is,  when  loyalty  is  duty,  and  the  whole 
soul  is  thrilling  with  another  loyalty,  which  is  love.  It 
made  it  harder  for  her  to  be  good  to  Friedrich  when  she 
heard  that  the  Halberstadter  was  actually  in  Holland ; 
and  when  the  bells  of  the  Hague  rang  out  in  triumph  for 

x 


322  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

the  relief  of  Bergen  op  Zoom,  it  was  all  she  could  do  to 
hide  her  emotion ;  for  the  siege  of  Bergen  op  Zoom  was 
raised  because  Spinola  dared  not  fight  the  massed  armies 
of  Maurice  of  Orange,  Mansfeld — and  the  Halberstadter. 
Knowing  Christian  so  near,  her  whole  being  was  in  a 
ferment  of  yearning,  fear,  rapture,  doubt. 

The  King  spoke  constantly  of  his  wish  to  see  the 
Halberstadter  ;  he  sent  messages  praying  him  to  visit 
the  Hague ;  even  started  a  wild  plan  of  re-engaging  the 
services  of  both  Mansfeld  and  Christian,  for  evidently 
King  James's  embassy  in  Vienna  had  again  failed, 
and  war  alone  could  decide  the  Palatinate's  destiny. 
Christian  returned  a  courteous  and  evasive  answer ; 
he  could  scarce  hope  to  be  able  to  leave  his  army,  and 
thus  he  durst  not  promise  to  journey  to  the  Hague ;  as 
for  re-entering  Friedrich's  service,  he  was  eager  to  fight 
in  his  cause,  but  he  was  bound  to  stipulate  for  a  regular 
payment  of  the  troops,  as  his  own  treasury  was  now 
empty.  King  Friedrich,  as  usual,  had  no  money,  and 
thus  the  project  was  abandoned.  The  tardy  payment  of 
the  six  hundred  thousand  gulden  promised  by  the  States- 
General  for  the  services  of  the  Halberstadter  and  Mans- 
feld, was  causing  a  spirit  of  mutiny  in  the  army,  for,  being 
in  a  friendly  country,  the  soldiers  were  forbidden  to 
plunder.  The  Dutch,  however,  were  now  anxious  to  be 
rid  of  their  allies,  for  despite  the  orders  of  their  com- 
manders the  men-at-arms,  having  no  other  means  of 
subsistence,  plundered  in  secret.  Finally  the  States- 
General,  through  Maurice  of  Orange,  promised  immediate 
payment  on  the  condition  that  both  the  Halberstadter  and 
Mansfeld,  with  their  armies,  should  forthwith  leave  the 
country.  Mansfeld  now  proceeded  to  carry  out  a  plan 
which  had  long  lain  hidden  in  his  mind.  Under  the 
pretext  that  Count  Enno  of  East  Friesland,  an  allied 
Protestant  Prince,  was  in  treasonable  communication 
with  Spinola,  he  marched  to  East  Friesland.  The  ex- 
ample of  Bethlem  Gabor,  who,  from  being  a  condottiere 
and  adventurer,  had  risen  to  be  King  of  Hungary,  worked 
potently  in  the  minds  of  most  of  the  great  captains  of 


FAREWELL  323 

the  day ;  and  Mansfeld  dreamed  of  wresting  East  Fries- 
land  from  Count  Enno,  and  proclaiming  himself  prince 
of  that  small  country. 

The  Halberstadter  with  his  men  retired  to  his  old  van- 
tage-ground between  Paderborn  and  Lippe,  and  entered 
the  service  of  those  Protestant  Princes  of  that  neighbour- 
hood, his  own  brother  Friedrich  Ulrich  of  Brunswick  and 
George  of  Celle,  who  were  arming  in  case  the  adherents  of 
the  Protestant  faith  should  be  attacked  by  the  Emperor. 
They  justified  this  proceeding  by  declaring  that,  though 
presently  at  peace  with  his  Majesty,  they  deemed  it  ex- 
pedient to  have  a  powerful  defensive  army  in  the  field, 
though  they  wished  it  to  be  clearly  understood  that  their 
intentions  were  defensive,  and  in  no  way  offensive  to  their 
liege  lord,  the  Emperor.  Sick  at  heart,  the  Halberstadter 
saw  himself  drawn  into  a  maze  of  intrigue.  He,  who  was 
uncompromising  by  nature,  was  expected  to  fall  in  with 
the  compromises  of  half-hearted  self-seekers,  men  who 
talked  of  the  Protestant  faith,  of  their  neutrality,  of  their 
obedience  to  the  Emperor,  and  were,  all  the  time,  secretly 
arming  in  case  it  might  suit  their  policy  to  attack  his 
Majesty's  forces.  Meanwhile  Tilly,  with  a  large  Imperial 
army,  waited  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  the  Protestant 
Princes  were  occupied  with  prolonged  negotiations  for  the 
Imperialists'  departure. 

Celle  then  became  reconciled  with  the  Emperor,  and 
the  Halberstadter  was  commanded  to  disband  his  forces 
and  fling  himself  upon  Ferdinand's  mercy.  Once  more 
he  stood  alone ;  those  he  had  served  repudiated  him.  In 
July  1623  he  decided  to  march  back  to  the  Netherlands, 
but  ere  he  left  he  formally  renounced  his  administrator- 
ship of  Halberstadt,  in  order  that  the  Protestant  Princes 
could  continue  their  negotiations  with  the  Emperor  un- 
trammeled  by  his  right  as  administrator  to  participate  in 
their  treaties.  Christian  was  again  forced  into  the  posi- 
tion of  a  marauder,  of  an  unemployed  soldier  of  fortune 
at  the  head  of  a  robber  band.  He  was  an  outlaw,  too, 
being  under  the  ban  of  the  Empire,  and  the  word  had  gone 
forth  that  Tilly  was  to  destroy  him. 


324  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Hard  on  the  heels  of  the  Halberstadter's  small  army 
followed  Tilly  with  his  hosts.  The  pursuit  became 
desperate  —  from  pass  to  pass,  from  ford  to  ford,  the 
relentless  foe  pressed  him.  After  a  few  days'  forced  march 
the  Halberstadter  dared  not  even  pitch  his  tents  at  night ; 
it  was  only  possible  to  snatch  an  hour's  halt  for  the  much- 
needed  repose,  and  even  thus  the  enemy's  foreguard  con- 
stantly harried  his  rear-guard.  God  alone  knew  how 
bitter  it  was  to  him  to  fly  thus  before  the  foe,  but  he  durst 
not  risk  a  battle — he  was  outnumbered  by  ten  to  one. 
Near  the  township  of  Stadtlohn,  on  the  borders  of  the 
Netherlands,  Tilly  fell  upon  him.  Desperately  Chris- 
tian and  his  men  fought  against  the  overwhelming 
odds.  With  Tilly's  numerical  superiority  the  battle's 
issue  was  a  foregone  conclusion,  yet  each  man  in  the 
Halberstadter's  army  knew  that  in  victory  lay  his  only 
hope  of  life,  for  those  who  fought  under  the  outlaw  were 
outlaws  and  could  expect  no  mercy.  For  seven  hours  the 
battle  raged.  The  Halberstadter,  it  was  said,  fought  not 
like  a  man  but  like  a  devil,  yet  it  was  of  no  avail — the 
flower  of  his  army  was  cut  down,  and  the  remainder, 
broken  by  fatigue,  fled  in  disorder,  carrying  away  Christian 
himself  in  the  fugitive  stream.  Young  Thurn,  who  had 
fought  bravely  at  his  side,  was  sore  wounded.  He  prayed 
Christian  to  abandon  him,  and  to  endeavour  to  rally  the 
remnant  of  his  army  for  a  renewed  attack,  but  the  Hal- 
berstadter knew  that  Bernard  Thurn  would  share  the  fate 
of  the  Bohemian  patriots  did  he  fall  into  his  Apostolic 
Majesty's  hands,  and  he  refused  to  leave  him.  Despite 
the  rush  of  the  panic-stricken  soldiery,  he  succeeded 
hi  staying  beside  the  wounded  man's  rude  stretcher, 
and  at  nightfall  the  melancholy  little  cortege  arrived 
at  Arnhem.  In  the  town  were  many  fugitives,  and 
the  Halberstadter  immediately  set  about  reforming  his 
army,  but  there  was  scarce  a  full  regiment  left.  At  last 
the  giant  power  of  Austria  had  indeed  crushed  Elizabeth 
Stuart's  champion. 

The  Halberstadter  and  his  remnant  of  an  army  took 
service  with  the  States-General,  and  again  in  the  autumn 


FAREWELL  325 

of  1623  Elizabeth  heard  that  the  man  she  loved  was  in 
Holland. 

The  defeat  of  Stadtlohn  was  followed  by  the  defeat  of 
King  James's  diplomacy.  Prince  Charles  and  Bucking- 
ham returned  from  their  romantic  journey  to  Spain  with- 
out the  Infanta,  and  bringing  bad  news  of  the  negotiations 
for  the  restitution  of  the  Palatinate.  Buckingham  had 
offended  both  statesmen  and  courtiers ;  Charles  had  made 
specious  promises  anent  the  English  Catholics,  which  no 
one  expected  him  to  fulfil.  Now  was  started  a  scheme 
whereby  Prince  Hal,  Elizabeth's  eldest  son,  was  to  be 
affianced  to  an  Austrian  Archduchess  and  educated  hi 
Vienna.  If  this  was  arranged,  Philip  of  Spain  undertook 
to  procure  the  immediate  restoration  of  a  portion  of  the 
Palatinate  to  Friedrich,  and  promised  that  at  the  death 
of  Maximilian  of  Bavaria,  Prince  Hal  should  succeed  to 
the  Electorate.  Obviously  the  secret  scope  of  this  plan 
was  the  conversion  to  Catholicism  of  Prince  Hal  by  his 
education  in  Vienna,  and  thus  the  ultimate  imposition  of 
a  Catholic  ruler  upon  the  Palatinate.  Friedrich,  as  in 
honour  bound,  refused  this  proposal,  and  Elizabeth  Stuart 
expressed  herself  in  vehement  terms  on  the  subject.  She 
would  liefer  die,  she  said,  than  see  her  son  a  Catholic ;  to 
pay  such  a  price,  even  for  home  and  affluence,  would  be  a 
base  desertion  of  Friedrich's  vow  to  be  the  champion  of 
Protestantism.  The  hope  of  a  peaceful  restoration  of 
the  Palatinate  grew  faint  after  this  refusal,  although  the 
negotiations  in  Madrid  dragged  wearily  on  for  some  months. 

During  that  summer  the  Queen  had  given  birth  to  her 
fifth  son,  Louis.  The  child  was  weakly  and  ailing,  and 
Sophie  of  Nassau,  who  had  lately  been  much  with  the 
Queen,  thought  that  the  restlessness  which  during  the 
last  year  had  tortured  Elizabeth  had  had  an  ill  effect 
on  the  little  one.  The  Countess  of  Nassau  guessed  that 
Elizabeth,  despite  her  outward,  smiling  calm,  was  rent  by 
yearning  and  racked  by  hope  when  she  knew  the  Hal- 
berstadter  to  be  in  Holland — glad  and  yet  heartsore  when 
she  knew  him  gone  to  the  wars  again.  There  was  no 
mention  of  all  this  in  the  ladies'  talk,  but  since  the  day 


326  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

vrhen  the  Countess  Sophie  had  told  the  Queen  of  the 
battle  of  Fleurus,  there  had  been  an  unspoken  under- 
standing between  them,  and  Sophie  had  brought  the 
Queen  those  few  laconic  messages  which  the  Halber- 
stadter  wrote  to  his  sister.  She  had  seen  her  flush,  and 
her  brown  eyes  glow,  when  she  read  the  formal  message : 
"  I  pray  your  Grace  to  tell  the  Queen  that  I  am  ever  her 
faithful  servant  to  serve  her,"  or  "  Je  suis  comme  toujours 
le  serviteur  de  la  Belle  Royne,"  or  "  Je  voudrois  s^avoir  si 
sa  Majeste  veult  byen  penser  maintes  fois  a  son  serviteur." 
Sophie  of  Nassau,  womanlike,  wrote  more  freely  to  her 
brother ;  she  told  him  openly  that  "  la  belle "  always 
spoke  of  him,  that  never  a  day  passed  where  she  did  not 
inquire  if  she  had  tidings  of  him.  But  the  Halberstadter 
— the  silent  one,  as  the  Queen  had  called  him — was 
characteristically  reserved ;  probably,  with  the  ostrich-like 
instinct  of  the  man  who  loves,  he  deemed  that  no  one 
guessed  his  passion. 

One  October  day  the  Queen  rode  out  to  a  hawking- 
party  in  the  woods  beyond  the  Bosch.  The  King,  again 
feverishly  occupied  with  a  new  scheme  for  recovering  the 
Palatinate,  was  busy  with  affairs  of  State,  and  had  not 
accompanied  her  Majesty.  Elizabeth  welcomed  any  pro- 
ject which  gave  Friedrich  occupation.  It  was  piteous  to 
see  him  wandering  disconsolately  beside  the  Vijver,  pacing 
along  the  Voorhout  dejectedly,  or  talking  with  futile 
pomposity  to  some  equally  futile,  pompous  diplomatic 
agent,  debating  the  schemes  of  nations  wherein  he, 
Friedrich,  had  no  longer  a  voice,  but  wherein  he  had  be- 
come a  pawn  or  a  pretext  behind  which  matters  of  real 
import  were  negotiated.  Thus,  when  some  European 
complication  gave  him  the  opportunity  to  write  despatches 
endeavouring  to  annex  the  interests  of  the  Palatinate  to 
the  negotiations  of  some  vaster  enterprise,  the  Queen 
rejoiced. 

It  was  a  still,  autumn  day ;  the  air  smote  fresh  and  cool 
as  a  draught  of  forest  water ;  the  sky  was  grave,  but 
friendly  and  suave.  The  beech-trees  in  the  Bosch  were 
already  stripped  of  that  glory  of  colour  which,  but  a  few 


FAREWELL  327 

weeks  since,  had  clothed  them  so  regally.  Now  they 
stood  bereft  and  gaunt,  their  branches  like  mighty  snakes 
smooth  and  satin-skinned,  and  at  their  roots  a  carpet 
of  russet  leaves  exhaled  the  fragrancy  of  autumn.  The 
Queen  rode  her  favourite  chestnut  mare,  a  being  as 
haughty  and  sensitive  as  herself,  eager  and  nervous  yet 
perfectly  understanding  the  light,  strong  hand  which  held 
the  reins.  All  her  Majesty's  ladies  were  of  the  party : 
my  Lady  of  Solms,  Lady  Phyllis  Devereux,  Mistresses 
Alison  Hay,  Stanley,  and  Clovelly;  and  there  was,  too,  a 
new  visitor  at  her  Majesty's  Court,  Mademoiselle  de  la 
Tre'mouille,  daughter  of  the  old  Electress  Juliane's  sister, 
the  Duchesse  de  la  Tremouille,  and  thus  cousin  to  King 
Friedrich.  This  Charlotte  de  la  Tremouille  was  a  proud 
and  spirited  damsel,  truly  after  the  Queen's  own  heart, 
with  something  a  trifle  like  a  gallant  in  her  bearing. 
My  young  Lord  Strange,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Derby,  sojourn- 
ing at  the  Hague  to  offer  his  homage  to  her  Majesty,  was 
there,  and  his  eyes  seldom  left  Mademoiselle  Charlotte. 
The  Queen  smiled  to  herself  as  she  saw  this  dawning  love. 
Young  Strange  was  something  like  Christel  she  thought, 
and  she  sighed  remembering  how  Christel  still  languished 
in  prison  at  Vienna.  Albeit  Elizabeth  Stuart  was  bravely 
gay,  sad  thoughts  often  assailed  her.  Life  and  Death 
had  both  conspired  to  rob  her  of  familiar  friends.  Lady 
Harrington  had  died  in  England  some  few  months  since  ; 
Schomberg  had  fallen  at  the  battle  of  the  White  Mountain ; 
Mistress  Anne  Dudley  was  dead ;  Christel  was  in  prison ; 
and  the  Halberstadter — alas !  Life  divided  her  from  him 
as  relentlessly  as  Death  itself.  A  gay  voice  broke  in  on 
her  sorrowful  pondering. 

"  Madame,  we  shall  have  wedding  bells  here,  for  sure ! 
Look  at  Strange's  face,  and  our  cousin  Charlotte  is  right 
gentle  to  him  ! "  It  was  Magnus  of  Wirtemberg  who 
spoke.  He  had  escaped  from  "  the  appalling  worthiness," 
as  he  said,  of  Stuttgart's  Court,  and  had  come  for  a  short 
visit  to  Holland,  for  although  he  had  momentarily  laid 
down  his  arms,  this  "  merry  Andrew's  "  friendship  for  the 
exiled  monarchs  was  unwavering. 


328  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Magnus  and  the  Queen  fell  a-talking  of  the  days  at 
Prague,  and,  despite  the  sadness  of  those  memories, 
Elizabeth  could  not  forbear  laughter  when  Magnus  re- 
called the  matrons  with  their  loaves,  or  mimicked 
Master  Scultetus. 

They  rode  on,  laughing  and  talking,  till  they  reached 
the  place  appointed  for  the  hawking,  and  then  all  other 
thoughts  were  banished  by  the  amusement  of  the  sport. 

The  autumn  evening  was  drawing  in  as  they  started 
homewards.  Once  more  Duke  Magnus  rode  beside  the 
Queen,  the  rest  of  the  party  followed  at  some  distance. 
Suddenly  they  heard  the  sound  of  galloping  in  one  of  the 
grass  rides  beside  them,  and  a  horseman  dashed  up  to 
the  Queen — a  man  in  a  green  riding  jerkin,  and  across 
his  breast  a  sky-blue  baldric  in  whose  folds  his  left  hand 
was  hidden.  His  felt  hat  was  drawn  deep  over  his  brows. 
The  Queen's  horse,  startled  by  the  rider's  approach,  broke 
into  a  gallop.  At  first  Magnus  spurred  beside  her,  then, 
with  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and  a  hurried  lifting  of 
his  wide  felt  hat,  he  wheeled  round  and  rode  back  towards 
the  hawking  party. 

There  was  something  strangely  dreamlike  to  Elizabeth 
Stuart  in  this  unexpected  interruption  of  the  familiar 
monotony  of  commonplace  life.  In  the  man  with  the 
felt  hat  drawn  over  his  brow,  she  had  immediately  recog- 
nised the  Halberstadter,  and  although  she  had  believed 
him  to  be  far  away  on  the  German  frontier,  his  constant 
presence  in  her  thoughts  made  his  unexpected  advent 
seem  but  the  logical  and  natural  continuance  of  her 
mental  life. 

For  some  time  they  galloped  on  in  silence.  The  silvery 
beech-trunks  seemed  to  rush  past  them.  At  length  the 
Queen  checked  the  horse. 

"  Christian,  for  God's  sake,  speak  to  me ! "  she  cried. 
"  I  can  bear  it  no  longer.  Beloved — beloved !  speak 
to  me!" 

He  drew  rein  beside  her.  He  was  white  to  the  lips, 
and  his  brown  eyes  searched  her  face  hungrily  as  though 
he  sought  to  read  her  soul  there,  but  he  spoke  no  word. 


FAREWELL  329 

"  Speak  to  me,  Christian,"  she  repeated  tremulously. 
"  I  cannot  bear  to  see  you  so.  Ah !  I  love  you,  love  of 
mine — speak  to  me  ! " 

"  I  am  as  one  struck  dumb,"  he  answered  hoarsely. 

"  Then  I  must  speak  for  us  both,"  she  said,  "  silent 
one — my  silent  one  ! "  There  lay  such  a  world  of  tender- 
ness in  her  voice  as  she  called  him  by  this  name,  which 
she  had  so  often  used  in  jest  in  the  old  days,  that  a  half- 
sob  rose  in  his  throat. 

"  I  am  a  fool  who  cannot  speak  when  feeling  is  so 
great,"  he  muttered. 

"  It  was  always  thus,"  she  answered,  with  a  little 
wavering  smile.  "  Oh,  Christian  !  the  days  have  been  so 
long  without  you  ! — why  have  you  not  come  to  me  before  ? 
Alas !  you  make  me  all  unwomanly,  for  I  must  woo  you 
as  you  should  woo  me  !  But  Christian  " — how  she  lingered 
over  that  well-loved  name — "  Christian,  our  wooing  days 
are  over — or  have  never  been.  I  only  know  that  I  love 
you." 

"  Do  you  dream  that  I  have  forgotten  ? "  he  broke  in. 
"  Elizabeth,  I  have  known  no  thought  save  the  love  of 
you  !  Would  that  I  could  tell  you  ! " 

"  I  know  already,"  she  said,  and  through  her  mind  there 
flashed  a  picture  of  what  Sophie  of  Nassau  had  told  her 
of  the  camp  and  the  Halberstadter's  tent  beneath  the 
night  sky — of  the  peasant  women  brought  thither — of 
their  mockery  when  they  were  dismissed — of  how  men  said 
the  Halberstadter  was  mad  because  he  would  no  longer  sink 
to  debauchery ;  would  not,  because  he  loved  her  as  "  no 
man  had  ever  loved  before,"  as  he  had  once  said. 

"  Christian,  I  know  right  well  that  you  have  had  no 
thought  save  of  me,"  she  said.  "  Oh  !  that  I  could  make 
it  clear  to  you  how  you,  and  only  you  have  reigned  in  my 
heart  day — and  night,"  she  finished  bravely,  though  the 
blood  rushed  hotly  to  her  cheek  at  this  avowal. 

Their  eyes  met  and  drew  their  souls  together  with  the 
power  of  passion. 

"  You  will  not  leave  me  now,"  she  whispered.  "  You 
will  come  to  the  Hague " 


330  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  No,"  he  said  sternly,  "  I  can  never  come  to  you  until 
I  have  won  back  a  kingdom  for  you." 

"  What  do  I  care  for  a  kingdom  ! "  she  cried  vehemently. 
"  I  can  never  let  you  go  from  me  again — never — never !  " 

He  shook  his  head,  and  then  as  though  some  new 
thought  stung  him  to  madness,  he  spoke  quickly,  almost 
roughly. 

"  Perchance  because  I  am  so  maimed  a  creature,  so 
unsightly  now,  you  deem  I  can  take  the  place  of  some 
tame  house  friend — you  offer  me  pity — and  the  King's 
kindness,"  he  added  bitterly. 

"You  are  unjust,  Christian,"  she  said  proudly,  "  unjust 
and  ungenerous  to  me."  She  glanced  over  her  shoulder ; 
she  dreaded  lest  the  other  riders  should  interrupt  this 
meeting  which  she  thought  was,  perhaps,  her  last  with  the 
man  she  loved.  She  saw  that  Magnus  was  leading  the 
cavalcade  down  another  road,  and  she  blessed  him  for  it 
in  her  heart,  as  though  he  had  given  her  a  great  gift. 

"  Christian ! "  she  said,  and  her  voice  had  grown  in- 
finitely tender  again ;  "  do  not  waste  the  precious  moments 
we  have  together  by  such  vain  things.  I  love  you,  and 
all  my  soul  is  athirst  to  hear  you  say  you  love  me ! 
Ah !  I  know  it — but  I  must  hear  it  again — we  women 
must " 

"  I  love  you ! "  he  broke  in  ;  "  through  life  and  in  death 
I  must  always  love  you,  Elizabeth." 

"  When  will  you  come  back  to  me  ? "  she  asked  piteously. 

"  If,  and  when  God  wills  it,"  he  made  answer  solemnly. 

For  an  instant  silence  fell  between  them.  Far  away 
a  rook  cawed  hoarsely,  and  nearer  hi  the  wood  there  came 
the  sharp  yap  of  one  of  the  hunter's  dogs. 

"  The  hawking  party  will  rejoin  us  in  a  moment,"  she 
said  hurriedly.  "  There  is  one  thing  I  would  ask  you, 
Christian.  Give  me  something  you  have  worn — a  ring 
— a  chain — it  matters  not ;  but  I  would  fain  have  some- 
thing to  keep  by  me  always,  till  we  meet  again.  It  would 
be  my  talisman." 

He  glanced  down  at  his  ringless  right  hand  which  held 
the  reins.  He  was  not  a  man  to  wear  trinkets. 


FAREWELL  331 

"  All ! "  he  said,  remembering  suddenly,  "  I  have  the 
chain  with  the  little  jewel  which  my  mother  gave  me. 
You  will  see  why  I  wear  it."  With  a  dexterous 
movement  of  his  one  hand  he  twisted  the  reins  around 
the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  and  unfastened  the  breast- 
buttons  of  his  jerkin.  Somehow  his  quick  dexterity  with 
his  one  hand  brought  home  anew  to  her  the  tragedy  of 
a  man  so  strong  and  adroit  being  maimed  as  he  was,  and 
the  tears  rose  in  her  eyes. 

He  was  fumbling  with  the  clasp  of  the  chain  around 
his  neck  now,  and  she  saw  how  instinctively  he  made 
a  movement  with  his  left  arm — that  arm  whereon  there 
was  no  hand.  She  bent  forward  in  her  saddle  and  would 
have  aided  him,  but  he  shot  her  an  almost  hostile  look, 
and  violently  wrenched  the  chain  in  twain.  She  held  out 
her  hand,  and  he  laid  in  it  a  slight  golden  chain  and 
a  little  crystal  jewel  whereon  was  engraven  the  name 
"  Elizabeth." 

"  You  see  why  I  have  worn  it,"  he  said. 

She  nodded.  A  wave  of  sadness  drowned  all  speech 
for  her,  yet  she  yearned  to  cry  out  that  all  the  world  might 
go  hang — Friedrich — her  children  —  duty — honour — . 
She  loved  him,  and  nothing  else  on  earth  counted. 

Close  among  the  trees  she  heard  the  sound  of  laughing 
voices  and  the  tramp  of  horses. 

"  They  are  coming,"  she  said,  "  Christian  !  Christian  ! " 

"  Give  me  your  hand — let  me  feel  your  touch  once 
more."  There  was  no  pleading  in  his  tone,  rather  a 
command. 

She  drew  off  her  leather  gauntlet  and  reached  him  her 
warm,  strong  white  hand. 

He  bent  over  and  took  it  in  his  right  hand — she  was 
on  his  left  side,  and  once  more  piteously  she  realised  his 
grievous  hurt — but  all  thought  vanished  as  his  touch 
came  on  her. 

"  Christian ! "  she  murmured  in  a  weak,  shuddering 
voice,  "  Christian,  my  beloved " 

He  crushed  her  palm  to  his  lips — she  saw  how  he  closed 
his  eyes  while  he  drew  in  the  fragrance  of  her  skin,  and 


332  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

then  the  throb  of  her  own  passion  surged  in  her  and  shut 
out  consciousness  for  an  instant. 

"  Farewell,  Queen  of  all  my  life  ! "  he  said.  He  urged 
his  horse  to  a  gallop,  and  dashed  down  the  grass  ride. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  watched  him  go,  and  it  seemed  to  her 
that  the  soft  autumn  had  changed  to  cold  darkness,  as 
though  the  world's  light  had  died  suddenly  for  her. 

"  We  have  found  a  good  place  for  flying  the  young 
hawks,  madame,"  came  a  merry  voice  close  to  her. 

"  I  thank  you  for  much,  Magnus,"  she  said  simply. 


CHAPTER  XX 

"  IF  LOVE  BE  DEAD,  WHY  DOST  THOU  RISE,  0  SUN  ?  " 

"  I  think  of  thee,  lost  love,  and  testify 

The  present  pain  cheap  price  for  the  dear  past ; 
Though  Fate  through  life  all  comfort  should  deny, 
And  after  death  my  loneliness  still  last, 
'Tis  better  to  have  held  thee  once  so  fast 
Than  die  without  thy  love,  as  others  die." 

— PHILIP  BOUBKE  MARSTON. 

THE  Queen  had   passed   through   an    o'erdarkened 
spell  since  that  day  when  she  had  ridden  with 
Christian  in  the  autumn  woods.     Her  baby  son, 
Louis,  had  died ;  pestilence  had  raged  in  Holland  ;  money 
was  more  than  ever  scarce ;  and  the  King's  creditors  at 
the  Hague,  knowing  how  faint  had  grown  the  hope  of 
the  Palatinate's  restitution,  became  anxious  and  pressed 
for  payment. 

"  It  seems  as  though  God's  bounty  is  bestowed  upon 
us  only  in  childbirth,"  the  Queen  had  said  half-bitterly, 
half-humorously,  when  her  sixth  son,  Edward,  was  born 
in  the  autumn  of  1624. 

The  exiles'  political  horizon  was  blacker  than  ever. 
The  Palatinate,  though  still  overrun  by  Imperial  troops, 
was  now  officially  a  portion  of  Maximilian  of  Bavaria's 
domain,  and  he  was  universally  recognised  as  Elector  in 
Friedrich's  stead. 

Towards  the  end  of  1624  the  gloom  was  lightened, 
and  once  more  the  exiles'  hopes  revived.  The  failure  of 
the  Spanish  match  induced  King  James  to  sanction  a  de- 
claration of  war  against  Spain,  with  the  avowed  intention 
of  delivering  the  Palatinate  from  the  Imperial  allies,  and 
both  Mansfeld  and  the  Halberstadter  were  engaged  by 

333 


334  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

England  for  the  enterprise.  Mansfeld  repaired  to  the 
Court  of  France  to  solicit  assistance  in  the  forthcoming 
campaign,  and  the  Halberstadter  journeyed  to  England. 
It  was  pleasant  to  Elizabeth  Stuart  to  know  him  to 
be  a  visitor  in  the  home  of  her  childhood,  and  she 
rejoiced  when  she  heard  of  the  fulfilment  of  her  re- 
quest to  King  James  that  he  should  be  a  Knight 
of  the  Garter.  She  told  herself  that  all  this  was  of 
happy  augury.  She  was  assured  that  her  sojourn  at 
the  Hague  would  soon  be  ended;  she  would  return  to 
Heidelberg,  and  the  good  days  of  peace  and  plenty  would 
come  again.  Often  she  had  remembered  the  autumn 
evening  when  she  had  bidden  farewell  to  her  orchard 
at  Heidelberg,  and  had  seen  that  uncanny  procession  of 
Neckar  newts;  with  an  eerie  feeling  she  had  recalled  the 
gardener's  words :  "  They  say  the  nasty  efts  march  to  a 
funeral,  or  to  bid  farewell  to  one  who  will  never  return 
to  this  country."  It  had  seemed  to  her  that  she  should 
indeed  never  see  Heidelberg  again,  but  now  she  smiled 
at  her  own  despondency.  England  was  at  last  in  arms 
in  the  Palatine  cause,  Denmark  had  joined  the  enterprise, 
and  the  Halberstadter  was  to  fight  for  her. 

A  matrimonial  scheme  was  a-foot  for  Prince  Charles 
with  Princess  Henriette  Marie,  sister  to  Louis  XIII.  of 
France,  and  England  had  concluded  an  alliance  with 
Holland,  wherein  one  of  the  chief  clauses  was  a  definite 
promise  of  financial  and  military  aid  in  the  forthcom- 
ing campaign.  England,  France,  Denmark,  and  Holland 
would  surely  prove  too  powerful  a  combination  for  Austria 
and  Spain. 

In  February,  1625,  Mansfeld  and  the  Halberstadter 
marched  to  the  assistance  of  the  Dutch,  but  before  they 
reached  the  scene  of  action  the  town  of  Breda  had  fallen 
before  the  victorious  Spinola.  The  Protestant  army  now 
moved  southwards  towards  the  Palatinate,  but  found  their 
progress  blocked  by  Anholt  with  the  Bavarian  army. 

In  the  March  of  that  year  King  James  died.  Though 
Elizabeth  Stuart  mourned  him  dutifully,  still  it  was  with 
renewed  confidence  that  she  knew  her  brother  to  be  on 


"IF  LOVE  BE  DEAD"  335 

the  throne  of  England ;  for  Charles  had  ever  professed 
the  most  faithful  affection  for  her,  and  she  knew  how  he 
had  always  opposed  his  father's  dilatory,  half-hearted 
foreign  policy.  But  her  perfunctory  mourning  was  turned 
to  real  sorrow  a  few  weeks  later  by  the  death  of  Maurice 
of  Orange.  He  had  been  a  true  friend  to  her  from  the 
moment  when  she  had  landed  in  Holland,  journeying  to 
Heidelberg,  and,  in  the  day  of  her  dire  need,  when  she 
had  come  to  Holland  a  homeless  exile,  this  uncouth  warrior 
had  shown  her  a  chivalrous  devotion. 

On  his  deathbed  Maurice  had  advised  his  brother  and 
heir,  Frederik  Hendrik,  to  follow  the  dictates  of  his 
heart,  and  to  make  Amalia  Solms  his  wife;  and  thus 
hardly  were  the  magnificent  obsequies  which  the  States- 
General  gave  to  their  gallant  Stadthouder  concluded, 
when  the  wedding  bells  for  the  new  Stadthouder  rang 
out.  The  Queen  had  always  predicted  this  marriage, 
and  she  silenced  my  Lady  Phyllis  when  she  mocked  the 
affianced  Amalia's  self-conscious  superiority  of  manner. 

"  Phyllis,  Phyllis,  I  would  I  could  see  you  all  thus 
safely  married,"  the  Queen  said  gravely. 

"But  not  to  a  Prince  Frederik  Hendrik!"  Phyllis 
retorted. 

"  Dulness  is  not  always  the  worst  fault  in  a  husband," 
replied  Elizabeth  Stuart.  "  Frederik  Hendrik  is  very  solid 
in  mind." 

"  Oh  !  and  in  body  too  ! "  cried  Phyllis  gaily.  "  They 
will  be  like  a  pair  of  heavy  Flemish  horses,  madame ! " 

"  Good  lack,  girl !  they  will  protect  virtue  even  in  its 
most  unalluring  form ;  romance  and  wild  ambition  will 
hide  from  them  " — she  smiled  and  sighed  at  once — "  and 
that  is  better  for  a  country's  ruler  than  soaring  plans — 
and  failure." 

But  the  Princess  Amalia  was  to  deal  a  blow  to  the 
Queen's  pride  which  caused  her  Majesty  bitter  anger. 
Hardly  were  Prince  and  Princess  Frederik  Hendrik  settled 
at  the  Binnenhof,  when  Amalia  requested  an  audience  of 
the  Queen.  This  formal  demand  from  one  who  had  lived 
so  long  on  the  most  informal  footing  with  her,  surprised 


336  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

the  Queen,  yet  she  made  ready  to  receive  her  Highness 
of  Orange,  as  desired,  in  official  audience. 

She  assembled  her  ladies  and  the  gentlemen  of  her 
Court  around  her,  and  awaited  the  new  Princess's  advent. 

"  Phyllis,  if  you  laugh  I  vow  I  shall  dismiss  you  from 
my  service,"  the  Queen  whispered  as  the  parlour  door 
was  thrown  open.  She  rose  and  swept  a  profound  curtsey 
to  Amalia,  who  responded  by  a  deep  obeisance. 

"  It  is  a  pleasure  to  me  to  receive  your  Highness,"  the 
Queen  said  gravely.  Amalia  glanced  at  her  suspiciously ; 
she  knew  Elizabeth  Stuart  too  well  to  believe  her  gravity 
to  be  genuine. 

"I  thank  your  Majesty,"  she  answered.  "Ah!  good- 
day,  Lady  Phyllis  ;  good-day,  ladies." 

"  Good-day,  your  Highness,"  returned  Phyllis  haughtily. 

"  As  I  have  a  matter  of  importance  to  discuss,  madame, 
I  would  crave  your  Majesty  to  speak  with  me  in  private," 
continued  Amalia,  growing  very  red.  The  Queen  raised 
her  eyebrows,  but  turning  to  her  ladies,  prayed  them  to 
leave  her  alone  with  her  Highness  of  Orange. 

"  Oh !  for  the  dear  God's  sake,  Cousin  Amalia ! "  the 
Queen  broke  forth  as  soon  as  they  were  alone,  "  must  we 
mince  and  bow  as  though  we  were  strangers  ?  "  She  held 
out  her  hand  frankly:  "  Where  formality  dwells  no 
friendship  is  possible,"  she  said. 

Amalia  made  no  answer  ;  she  took  the  Queen's  hand 
shyly  and  stiffly,  and  looked  embarrassed. 

"  What  is  this  matter  which  you  would  discuss  ?  "  the 
Queen  asked,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  Your  Majesty,  it  is  irksome  to  me,"  began  Amalia. 
She  paused  again,  for  the  Queen's  foot  tapped  the  floor 
impatiently.  "  Very  irksome,"  she  continued. 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  then  ?  Have  you  discovered  that 
your  marriage  is  not  legal  ?  Or  do  you  propose  to  declare 
war  between  Holland  and — Bohemia  ? "  Elizabeth  asked 
mockingly.  Amalia's  long  histories  before  she  got  to  the 
real  business  of  the  day,  had  always  irritated  the  Queen. 
Her  Majesty  had  all  the  impatience  of  a  quick  and  direct 
nature ;  she  was  wont  to  say  with  an  echo  of  her  Scotch 


"IF  LOVE  BE  DEAD"  337 

nurse's  phraseology :  "  I  can't  abide  the  fecklessness 
of  these  German  women.  They  clack  and  whimper  and 
never  get  to  the  day's  work  until  they  have  frowsed  them- 
selves into  unsightly  dullards  ! " 

She  sat  down,  and,  leaning  her  arm  on  the  table,  rested 
her  chin  in  her  hand.  Amalia  looked  around,  and  seated 
herself  in  the  King's  chair,  which  stood  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  table.  She  was  Princess  of  Orange*  now,  she  re- 
membered, and  did  not  need  the  Queen's  permission  to 
be  seated  in  her  presence. 

"  Well,  cousin  ? "  said  the  Queen,  after  another  pause. 

"  It  is  irksome  to  me,  madame,"  said  Amalia  again. 

"  So  your  Highness  has  had  the  goodness  to  inform  me 
— twice,  I  think,"  the  Queen  said  icily. 

"  It  is  about  the  carriages,  madame — the  Stadthouder's 
equipages,"  Amalia  said ;  "  your  Majesty  has  some  of 
them  now." 

"  Yes  ? "  said  the  Queen  wonderingly.  She  had  used 
the  Stadthouder's  coaches  for  over  four  years  now,  and 
the  habit  of  four  years  is  as  powerful  as  the  habit  of  a 
lifetime.  "  Yes,  I  have  some  of  the  carriages ;  what  of 
that  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Prince  Maurice,  my  husband's  sainted  brother,  was 
unmarried,"  continued  Amelia  Solms. 

"  Amalia  ! "  cried  the  Queen,  laughing,  "  have  mercy  on 
me  and  tell  me  something  I  do  not  know ! " 

"  The  present  Stadthouder  is  married,  and  his  wife  has 
need  of  carriages,  madame ;  that  is  all,"  Amalia  said  shrilly, 
and  her  fair-skinned  face  grew  pink-mottled  with  anger. 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  the  Queen  said  soothingly ;  "  but 
what  has  that  to  do  with  me  ?  " 

"  Madame,  we  live  in  troublous  times  ;  all  the  gold 
is  needed  for  the  army's  maintenance ;  more  carriages 
for  the  Stadthouder's  use  cannot  be  purchased,  and 
I  fear  the  coaches  your  Majesty  has  now,  can  no 
longer  be  at  your  disposal — I  regret  it,"  Amalia  finished 
awkwardly. 

The  Queen  rose.  The  colour  had  left  her  face,  and 
her  eyes  had  grown  hard. 

Y 


338  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Is  this  a  ^essage  from  your  husband,  the  Stadt- 
houder  ?  "  she  queried  coldly. 

"  I  spoke  with  the  Prince  of  Orange  on  the  subject. 
Of  course  I  could  settle  nothing  without  my  dear  husband's 
consent,  niadame.  He  is  very  generous  and  would  have 
waived  the  question  for  a  time,  but  we  have  agreed  that 
such  arrangements  must  end  before  their  long  continu- 
ance has  caused  them  to  become  precedents,"  Amalia 
said,  grown  quite  courageous  now  that  she  had  dealt 
her  blow. 

The  Queen  knew  full  well  what  was  implied  by  this 
talk  of  precedents.  Amalia  meant  that  the  loan  of  the 
carriages  must  be  withdrawn,  lest  the  exiles  should  con- 
sider this  charity  to  have  become  their  right. 

"  I  understand  perfectly,  your  Highness,"  said  the 
Queen  haughtily ;  "  you  need  express  no  regret,"  she 
added,  as  Amalia  came  towards  her,  murmuring :  "I  am 
indeed  grieved." 

"  You  need  really  not  give  the  matter  further  con- 
sideration, your  Highness.  I  shall  not  require  the  state 
carriages  again." 

Amalia  scanned  the  Queen's  face  in  quick  curiosity. 
"  Perchance  your  Majesty  will  soon  be  leaving  the 
Hague  ? "  she  said. 

"  At  present  I  am  the  guest  of  the  States-General," 
the  Queen  answered  meaningly,  "  and  I  do  not  know  how 
much  longer  I  shall  enjoy  their  hospitality.  But,  in  any 
case,  I  shall  not  require  the  Stadthouder's  coaches  again. 
I  pray  you  greet  my  cousin  of  Orange,  and  tell  him  I 
understand  the  situation  perfectly." 

The  shaft  went  home.  Amalia  knew  that  the  Queen 
meant  she  was  aware  that  the  unfriendly  action  had  not 
been  prompted  by  the  Stadthouder ;  that  it  was  Amalia's 
idea,  and  that  Frederik  Hendrik  had  given  it  his  sanc- 
tion against  his  own  good-natured  inclination,  guided  by 
the  demure  determination  of  his  outwardly  submissive 
wife. 

"  He  will  rejoice  that  your  Majesty  shows  so  ready  an 
acquiescence,"  she  began,  but  found  herself  silenced  by 


"IF  LOVE  BE  DEAD"  339 

the  haughty  bow  of  dismissal  wherewith  the  Queen 
terminated  the  audience. 

There  was  bitter  anger  in  the  "  Bohemian  Court  "  at 
the  Princess  Amalia's  action.  My  Lady  Phyllis  and  the 
other  ladies  vowed  they  would  not  salute  the  Princess  of 
Orange  when  next  they  met  her,  and  King  Friedrich 
would  have  laid  the  matter  of  the  carriages  before  the 
States-General,  while  Lord  Strange  and  Magnus  of 
Wirteinberg  were  eager  to  wait  upon  the  Stadthouder  to 
remonstrate  with  him. 

"  I  pray  you  leave  it  be,"  said  Elizabeth  Stuart ;  "  the 
best  pride  is  silence.  We  will  buy  carosses  somehow ; 
besides,  I  can  go  on  foot." 

"  A  Queen — a  Princess  Palatine  cannot  walk  amon^ 
the  rabble ! "  cried  Friedrich  despairingly.  Elizabeth 
Stuart  smiled. 

"  Dear  my  lord,"  she  said,  "  I  would  have  you  re- 
member that  there  is  naught  I  cannot  do.  Elizabeth 
Stuart  is  Elizabeth  Stuart  whether  she  walks  in  the  mud 
or  rides  in  a  gilded  coach.  Such  things  can  never  make 
me  less,  nor  more  !  " 

The  King  bowed  his  head ;  before  her  indomitable 
pride  of  race  and  being  he  always  felt  at  once  humbled 
and  uplifted.  In  a  way  he  felt  her  pride  to  be  a  protec- 
tion to  him. 

A  few  carosses  were  purchased  and  paid  for — somehow, 
though  each  day  the  state  of  the  King's  finances  grew 
more  deplorable  and  the  creditors'  importunities  more  irk- 
some. Yet  hope  was  high  hi  the  Queen's  heart,  for 
Mansfeld,  the  Halberstadter,  and  the  King  of  Denmark 
were  actually  in  arms  in  Germany,  and  it  could  not  be 
long  before  their  victory  would  break  the  power  of  Austria 
and  Spain.  At  present,  however,  though  the  belligerents 
confronted  each  other,  and  the  whole  of  Germany  was 
armed  to  the  teeth,  and  there  had  been  a  hundred  skir- 
mishes, no  battle  had  taken  place.  Yet  it  was  thought 
that  all  was  going  well. 

The  marriage  of  King  Charles  of  England  with  Henriette 
Marie  being  now  accomplished,  France  was  bound  to  keep 


340  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

faith  with  the  enemies  of  Austria ;  and  the  German  Pro- 
testant Princes,  though  they  gave  it  grudgingly,  had  been 
unable  to  refuse  their  support  to  an  army  enrolled  in  the 
name  of  Protestantism  by  the  great  anti-Catholic  powers. 
Only  two  Protestant  potentates  had  refused  their  support : 
John  George  of  Saxony  who  sided  with  the  Emperor,  and 
the  Elector  of  Brandenburg,  Friedrich's  brother-in-law, 
hung  back  as  usual,  alleging  a  dozen  reasons  for  remain- 
ing neutral.  Among  the  numerous  pretexts  which  he  put 
forward,  the  only  one  which  had  a  semblance  of  kindly 
consideration  for  his  unfortunate  kinsman,  was  the  plea 
that,  as  Friedrich's  mother,  Louise  Juliane,  and  his  two 
children,  Elizabeth  and  Karlutz,  were  still  harboured  in 
Berlin,  it  was  better  to  remain  neutral  and  thus  to  insure 
the  safety  of  their  refuge. 

The  Protestant  army  was  confronted  in  Germany  by  a 
new  antagonist,  the  Count  of  Wallenstein,  a  Bohemian 
Catholic,  who  had  been  called  upon  by  the  Emperor 
Ferdinand  to  enlist  a  separate  army  to  assist  Spinola, 
Cordova,  Tilly,  and  the  Bavarian  Anholt,  in  exterminat- 
ing the  "  pestilent  heretical  rebels."  The  Emperor  issued 
a  proclamation  commanding  that  the  utmost  rigour  should 
be  shown  to  Mansfeld  and  the  Halberstadter ;  it  was  law- 
ful to  do  them  injury,  it  was  unlawful  to  give  them  food 
or  shelter.  The  Protestant  Princes,  alarmed  at  this  stern 
decree,  wavered  momentarily  in  their  loyalty  to  the  Re- 
formed Cause,  but  only  two  actually  submitted  to  the 
Emperor ;  these  were  the  Dukes  George  and  Christian  of 
Celle,  Guelphs  and  distant  kinsmen  of  the  Halbersta'dter. 
There  was  a  family  intrigue  underlying  their  policy. 
Friedrich  Ulrich  of  Brunswick- Wolfenbiittel  being  child- 
less, his  brother  the  Halberstadter  was  his  heir,  and  the 
Celles  hoped  by  espousing  the  Emperor's  cause  to  win 
favour  and  eventually  procure  the  outlawed  Halberstad- 
ter's  exclusion  from  the  succession  and  the  sequestration 
of  his  lands,  which  would  then  by  hereditary  right  fall 
to  them. 

For  months  the  war  dragged  on ;  there  were  skirmishes 
and  intrigues,  proposed  treaties  between  the  Emperor  and 


"IF  LOVE  BE  DEAD"  341 

his  adversaries,  quarrels  between  the  Protestant  com- 
manders, but  still  no  decisive  action  was  fought.  In 
England  the  Parliament  refused  to  grant  supplies  for  the 
war  unless  Buckingham  was  dismissed  from  office ;  and 
King  Charles,  though  he  loved  his  sister  and  honestly 
desired  to  furnish  the  army  with  funds,  loved  Buckingham 
and  his  own  prerogatives  better,  now  angrily  dissolved  the 
Parliament.  The  supplies  were  thus  not  voted,  and  no- 
thing could  be  sent  to  Germany  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
army.  The  King  of  Denmark  believed  this  omission  to 
proceed  from  bad  faith  on  Charles's  part,  and  a  general  feel- 
ing of  hopelessness  spread  among  the  allied  Protestants. 

Added  to  this  the  Halberstadter,  weary  and  disheartened 
at  length,  was  forced  to  abandon  the  army  for  a  time,  as 
his  presence  at  Wolfenblittel  was  indispensable  if  he  would 
save  his  inheritance.  Urgently  his  mother  wrote  that 
there  was  a  plot  in  Vienna  to  depose  Friedrich  Ulrich, 
to  sequestrate  his  lands,  and  to  hand  them  over  to  the 
intriguing  kinsmen. 

With  rapture  Elizabeth  of  Brunswick  welcomed  the 
Halberstadter  back  to  Wolfenbiittel.  He  had  ever  been 
wild  and  fierce,  and  had  brought  her  anxiety  and  sorrow, 
but  she  had  always  loved  him  a  thousand  times  more 
than  the  tame,  poor-spirited  Friedrich  Ulrich.  He  came 
to  her  now,  broken  in  health,  maimed  in  body,  an  outlaw 
with  a  price  set  upon  his  head,  a  man  with  sorrow  writ 
large  upon  his  face,  when  inattention  lifted  the  mask  of 
pride  and  courage  which  he  wore.  With  a  touching  pre- 
tence of  hopefulness  she  wrote  to  Sophie  of  Nassau  that 
she  doubted  not  a  few  weeks'  rest  and  care  would  restore 
Christian  to  health  ;  it  was  only  the  fever  which  wore  him 
thus,  the  low  fever  which  had  never  left  him  since  the 
battle  of  Fleurus. 

Sophie  of  Nassau  hurried  to  the  Queen  with  these  ill 
tidings.  Elizabeth  Stuart  was  already  discouraged  by  the 
tardy  progress  of  the  war  in  Germany,  and  by  her  own 
ever-increasing  pecuniary  anxieties,  but  she  would  not  let 
herself  believe  that  this  sadness  could  be  added  to  her 
misfortune.  All  things — only  not  this — not  this.  He 


342  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

would  recover,  he  was  so  strong  and  brave,  he  could  not 
die,  save  on  the  battlefield. 

Friedrich  was  absent  from  the  Hague ;  the  building  of 
a  hunting  castle  near  Rhenen  occupied  his  Majesty  greatly 
at  this  time.  The  munificent  States-General  had  granted 
him  a  piece  of  land  and  some  funds  wherewith  to  build  a 
house.  Thus  Elizabeth  Stuart  was  at  least  spared  the 
added  torture  of  concealing  her  anxiety,  and  her  sorrowful 
presentiments. 

"All  things  save  this,"  she  had  said.  How  many  a 
woman  has  prayed  this  same  piteous  prayer  to  God,  before 
the  blow  falls  which  makes  life  bitter  for  ever ! 

The  Spring  had  come;  the  lime-trees  on  the  Lange 
Voorhout  were  radiant  with  their  coronal  of  young  leaves. 
Already  in  the  garden  before  the  Queen's  house  the  tulips 
were  overblown  and  many  petals  lay  upon  the  earth.  It 
was  May,  and  the  birds  warbled  of  the  coming  of  summer. 
Elizabeth  Stuart  sat  writing  to  King  Charles  of  England. 
Her  long  delicate  fingers  drove  the  quill  swiftly  across  the 
pages ;  she  seldom  paused  to  seek  a  word,  for  her  thoughts 
ever  travelled  faster  than  that  flying  pen.  Lady  Har- 
rington had  been  wont  to  say :  "  Her  Highness  sweeps  over 
the  paper  as  though  her  pen  were  a  besom,"  and  truth 
to  tell,  the  Queen's  caligraphy,  with  its  broad  dashes  and 
sweeping  strokes,  ever  bore  traces  of  her  impetuous  haste. 

She  finished  her  letter  to  King  Charles,  signed  that 
cramped  monogram  which  signified  E.  B..  Elizabeth  Bohe- 
mia, and  with  deft  fingers  she  began  the  folding  of  her 
missive.  She  struck  a  spark  from  a  steel  tinder-box, 
lighted  a  little  taper,  bound  her  letter  round  with  a  strand 
of  yellow  silken  thread,  and  affixed  the  seal  Her  thoughts 
had  wandered  to  Wolfenbiittel  again,  and  her  usually 
dexterous  fingers,  unguided  by  her  mind,  proved  dis- 
obedient servants  of  so  careless  a  ruler — they  spoiled 
the  seal 

At  this  moment  a  hurried  footfall  came  in  the  corridor, 
and  Sophie  of  Nassau  entered  the  parlour  unannounced. 
The  Queen  was  busy  with  the  resealing  of  her  letter. 


"IF  LOVE  BE  DEAD"  343 

"  Is  that  you,  Phyllis  ? "  she  said  absently,  without 
raising  her  eyes  from  her  occupation. 

"  Ma  cousine,  it  is  I,"  said  a  tremulous  voice  behind  her. 

"  Sophie ! "  cried  the  Queen,  springing  up,  "  what 
tidings — "  but  the  words  died  on  her  lips  as  she  saw 
Sophie's  face,  and  the  letter  fluttered  unheeded  from  her 
fingers.  There  was  no  need  for  Sophie  of  Nassau  to  speak, 
Elizabeth  Stuart  had  read  her  tidings  in  her  face.  She 
stretched  out  both  hands  to  Sophie. 

"  When  ? "  the  Queen  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Six  days  since,"  she  answered,  and,  burying  her  face  in 
her  hands,  she  wept  quietly. 

The  Queen  stood  silent  and  immovable,  only  her  fingers 
clutched  convulsively  at  her  throat.  For  an  instant  all 
thought  was  banished  by  an  awful  choking,  as  though  a 
cord  drawn  around  her  throat  throttled  her.  Through 
the  open  casement  there  came  the  sweetness  of  the  soft 
Spring  air,  and  the  sound  of  Prince  Hal's  blithe  young 
voice  in  the  garden  as  he  played  with  his  dog.  Then  the 
boy  called  gaily  through  the  window : 

"  Mother,  mother !  Come  and  see  how  my  dog  can 
jump.  Brady  dog  !  jump  ! " 

Sophie  of  Nassau  was  sobbing. 

"  Go,  Hal ;  I  cannot  come  now,"  the  Queen  said  gently. 

"  Oh,  do  come  and  see  Brady,  mother,"  the  boy  called. 

"No,  not  now — I  have  another  thing  to  do,"  she 
answered.  What  had  she  to  do  after  all  ?  This  was  her 
life,  this  commonplace  living  with  its  manifold  difficulties 
and  cares — her  children  and  their  pastimes.  .  .  . 

She  pressed  both  hands  against  her  eyes.  There  was 
some  mistake — it  was  an  evil  dream — she  would  wake 
soon.  Some  day  Christian  would  come  back  to  her  and 
all  would  be  well.  She  touched  the  little  jewel  he  had 
given  her ;  it  was  always  hidden  on  her  breast. 

"  Sophie,  what  have  you  heard  ?  There  is  some  mis- 
take," she  said  almost  stupidly. 

For  answer  Sophie  of  Nassau  held  a  letter  out  to  her. 
She  took  it,  unfolded  the  sheet,  and  read.  The  whole 
miserable  story  was  written  there,  how  he  had  come  back 


344  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

to  Wolfenbiittel,  how  each  day  he  had  grown  weaker,  how 
the  physicians  had  not  been  able  to  explain  his  malady, 
how  he  had  suffered  from  a  burning  thirst.  That  his 
mind  had  wandered,  and  that  in  his  delirium  he  had  been 
constantly  commanding  an  army,  but  that  at  the  last — 
the  Queen's  vision  grew  dim,  and  the  strangled  feeling 
came  again,  but  she  forced  herself  to  read  on — at  the 
last  his  mind  had  been  clear.  He  had  caused  himself  to 
be  dressed  in  his  buff  jerkin  and  cuirass,  with  the  sky- 
blue  baldric  across  his  breast,  and  had  bidden  them 
support  him  to  the  window,  where  he  had  stood,  swaying 
weakly,  but  looking  out — out  as  though  he  saw  some- 
thing which  no  one  else  could  see.  How  he  had  spoken 
no  word,  but  silently  had  gazed  out  at  the  Spring,  and 
then  how  suddenly  his  knees  had  bent  beneath  him  and 
he  had  fallen  forward,  but  his  mother  had  caught  him 
and  had  pillowed  his  head  upon  her  heart.  Then  he  had 
spoken  one  word — one  only — and  it  had  comforted  the 
mother  exceedingly,  for  with  his  last  breath  he  had 
called  her  "  Beloved." 

With  a  great  cry  that  sounded  almost  as  a  cry  of 
triumph,  Elizabeth  Stuart  let  the  letter  fall  to  the  ground 
Over  and  over  again  she  repeated  Christian's  death- 
word:  "Beloved!  Beloved!" 

Sophie  of  Nassau  rose  and  came  to  her.  The  barrier 
of  reticence  was  broken  down  between  them. 

"  Elizabeth,"  Sophie  said  gently,  "  let  my  mother  in 
her  sorrow  believe  that  he  indeed  spoke  to  her — let  her 
have  this  one  solace." 

"  Did  you  think  that  I  would  ever  tell  her  ?  Sophie,  it 
is  enough  for  me  to  know.  Ah,  God !  "  the  Queen  broke 
out,  "  ah,  God  !  if  I  could  but  have  given  him  more." 

"  You  have  no  remorse,  at  least.  You  never  smirched 
your  love,"  said  Sophie,  wishful  to  soothe  her. 

"  I  would  I  had  remorse,  'twere  better  than  regret !  " 
the  Queen  cried  passionately. 

Sophie  of  Nassau  drew  back  a  little.  She  was  gentle 
and  pure  and  weak,  and  she  feared  the  Queen,  as  she 
had  often  feared  the  Halberstadter.  She  had  always 


"IF  LOVE  BE  DEAD"  345 

deemed  them  to  be  curiously  akin,  beings  isolated  by 
their  own  force  and  vehemence,  resembling  each  other, 
though  one  had  been  so  silent  and  the  other  was  ever  so 
spontaneously  expressive  in  words ;  yet  it  was  as  though 
each  had  been  the  completion  of  the  other's  being.  Dimly 
she  had  always  known  them  to  be  of  the  same  race — the 
same  world,  and  thus  it  had  seemed  to  her  inevitable  that 
they  should  love.  Nevertheless  the  Queen's  impetuous 
frankness  appalled  her  even  now. 

"  Remorse  is  the  avenger  of  sin,"  she  whispered,  with 
that  meek  acceptance  of  axioms  which  is  the  refuge  of 
such  natures  as  hers. 

"  Sin  ?  Remorse  ?  They  are  all  names,"  the  Queen 
answered  wildly.  "  Sophie,  leave  me  now —  To-morrow 
I  will  seek  to  console  you  in  your  sisterly  grief — but 
now " 

"  God  help  you,"  said  Sophie  of  Nassau,  and,  with  a 
generosity  rare  enough  in  grief,  she  added  :  "  Your  sorrow 
is  a  thousand  times  more  than  mine,  but  for  your  com- 
fort I  bid  you  remember  his  last  word." 

She  left  the  Queen,  and  after  a  moment  Elizabeth 
Stuart  followed  her  out  of  the  parlour  and  betook  herself 
to  her  own  chamber.  And  there,  where  for  the  first  and 
last  time  she  had  known  the  rapture  of  Christian's  kiss, 
her  pent-up  agony  now  broke  forth  and  she  wept.  Yet, 
with  the  strange  working  of  a  woman's  soul,  it  was  not 
on  Christian  of  Brunswick,  her  dead  love,  that  she  called ; 
through  her  sobs  came  the  broken  words  : 

"  Anne,  sweet  Anne  Dudley,  would  you  were  here  to 
hold  me  in  your  arms !  Anne,  you  would  have  under- 
stood and  helped  me.  I  loved  him — loved  him  as  I 
never  knew  it  was  possible  to  love.  Anne,  I  need  your 
friendship  in  this  dark  hour,  I  am  so  alone — so  friend- 
less—  Thus  Elizabeth  Stuart  wept,  conquered  by  the 
eternal  loneliness  of  grief. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

TIDIN.GS  OF  DESPAIR 

"  C'est  trop  pleure, 
C'est  trop  suivy  tristesse." 

— JEAN  DE  LA  TAILLE. 

ELIZABETH  STUART'S  life  went  on  outwardly  un- 
changed. The  same  struggles  with  penury,  the 
same  ever-defeated  intrigues  for  the  restitution  of 
the  Palatinate,  the  same  round  of  duties  and  pleasures. 
No  matter  that  the  mainspring  of  her  life  was  broken, 
she  must  go  on — Queen,  wife,  and  mother — there  could 
be  no  breaking  down  for  her.  Uncomplainingly,  proudly, 
nobly,  she  went  through  the  years ;  bore  children  for 
Friedrich,  took  part  in  his  hopes  and  fears,  consoled  him 
for  life's  cruelty.  Even  death  could  not  change  duty, 
even  despair  could  not  banish  courage.  The  painters 
only  chronicled  that  she  had  passed  her  calvary,  but  on 
their  canvasses  they  recorded,  too,  something  of  the 
grandeur  of  her  bravery,  which  was  cheerfulness  in  spite 
of  sorrow.  The  face  which  Mierevelt  loved  to  paint  was 
no  longer  the  same,  though  laughter — that  shield  behind 
which  grief  so  often  hides — concealed  her  sorrow  from 
those  around  her.  How  strange  it  is  that  those  who  are 
bound  closest  by  the  bond  of  daily  life,  really  see  little  of 
a  man  or  woman's  true  aspect,  miss  the  tragedy,  overlook 
the  rapture,  are  blind  to  the  grandeur  which  is  yet 
written  on  the  well-known  faces.  The  vision's  focus  is 
wrong,  perhaps,  and  those  who  stand  afar  see  more 
clearly.  Yet  if  there  is  pain  and  loneliness  herein  there 
is  a  merciful  ordering  also,  for  the  human  soul  shrinks 
before  too  sharp  a  scrutiny.  But  with  the  inconsistency 
which  is  eternally  human,  how  we  cry  out  for  comprehen- 


346 


'  '.  J 


^v^ioi 


'•       •-•-J 


ELIZABETH  OF  BOHEMIA. 

From  a  fuiintin°  by  Honthorst  in  the  National  Portrait  Gallery 


TIDINGS   OF   DESPAIR  347 

sion,  how  we  thirst  for  nearness  !  Impatient  of  that 
loneliness,  which  perhaps  was  given  by  God  as  a  protec- 
tion, we  for  ever  seek  understanding,  forgetting  that  only 
once  in  a  lifetime  can  it  be  other  than  a  corroding  chain, 
forgetting  that  it  is  only  bearable  when  it  comes  as  a 
flash  of  intuitive  sympathy,  that  the  soul  cannot  bear 
scrutiny,  God  having  made  each  soul  to  be  alone. 

Nowadays,  on  Elizabeth  Stuart's  face  there  were  written 
three  things:  the  cheerfulness  of  courage,  the  patience 
which  life  teaches  to  the  impatient,  the  sadness  of  an 
undying  memory.  She  was  never  the  same  after  the 
Halberstadter's  death,  and  she  deemed  she  had  drained  the 
chalice  of  sorrow.  She  knew  not  that  in  the  dregs  there 
remained  the  poison-drops  of  sordid  anxiety,  of  the  bitter- 
ness of  humiliation,  of  the  shame  caused  by  those  she  loved. 

The  monotonous  life  at  the  Hague  went  on.  The 
campaign  in  Germany  had  languished  for  lack  of  funds. 
After  the  battle  of  Lutter,  the  only  actual  combat  of  that 
whole  campaign,  and  where  the  King  of  Denmark  was 
sorely  beaten  by  Tilly,  a  truce  had  been  concluded 
between  the  Protestant  leaders  and  the  Emperor.  Magnus 
of  Wirtemburg,  poor  "  merry  Andrew,"  had  fallen  at 
Lutter,  and  a  few  months  after  Ernest  Mansfeld  had  died 
of  a  strange  lingering  malady,  so  similar  to  that  which 
had  killed  the  Halberstadter,  that  the  talk  was  renewed 
of  how  both  the  Protestant  champions  had  died  of  poison. 

With  this  fading  of  their  hopes  the  exiles'  daily  life  in 
the  Hague  became  increasingly  difficult.  The  creditors 
clamoured  for  payment,  and  the  remittances  from  England 
grew  less  frequent.  The  sordidness  of  debt  and  anxiety 
pressed  on  Elizabeth  Stuart.  The  house  at  Rhenen  had 
risen  stately  and  commodious,  but  the  funds  voted  by  the 
States- General  were  sunk  beneath  the  weight  of  masonry. 
Many  of  the  Queen's  jewels  vanished  from  her  casket. 
The  ruby  buttons  over  which  King  J  ames  had  made  such 
a  pother  with  sweet  Mistress  Anne  and  Schomberg  in  the 
old  days  at  Heidelberg — the  ruby  buttons  disappeared. 
Then  went  the  pearl  ring  and  chain  which  had  once  been 
among  the  Danish  crown  jewels,  and  which  Anne  of 


348  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Denmark  had  bequeathed  to  her  daughter  "  Goody  Pals- 
grave." In  fact,  her  Majesty's  trinkets  were  much 
diminished  in  number.  She  said  she  heard  it  was  the 
newest  mode  "  not  to  bedizen  oneself  with  gauds,"  but  the 
reason  of  her  Majesty's  lack  of  adornment  would  have 
been  clear  enough  if  the  kists  of  certain  Jewish  usurers 
in  Amsterdam  could  have  been  examined.  It  seemed 
that,  after  all,  and  in  spite  of  King  Friedrich's  strictures, 
a  Princess  Palatine  could  pawn  her  jewels. 

The  States-General  had  given  the  Queen's  children  a 
mansion  at  Leyden,  the  house  on  the  Lange  Voorhout 
affording  restricted  accommodation.  Only  Prince  Hal 
was  constantly  at  his  mother's  side,  for  she  loved  her 
first-born  with  a  tenderness  which  she  did  not  lavish  on 
her  other  children.  She  was  wont  to  say  that  she  could 
do  all  her  maternal  duty,  attend  to  the  necessities  both 
of  her  children's  minds  and  of  their  bodies,  but  that  no 
one  could  commandeer  love,  not  even  a  child  from  a 
mother.  "  Love  comes  as  it  listeth,"  she  would  say,  sighing 
as  she  spoke  the  words.  Then  she  would  add,  with  one 
of  her  whimsical  smiles :  "  No  one  can  love  a  dozen 
children  equally,  and  methinks  God  means  to  deal  in 
dozens  with  us !  " 

Her  eldest  daughter  Elizabeth,  and  her  second  son 
Karl  Ludwig — Karlutz,  as  the  King  had  sub-named  him 
— had  now  left  Louise  Juliane's  care  in  Berlin,  and 
sojourned  at  Leyden  with  the  other  children.  Such  prim 
little  Calvinists  were  these  two  mites,  as  Elizabeth  Stuart 
declared.  She  was  half-annoyed  and  half-diverted  by 
their  demure  ways.  She  loved  to  poke  fun  at  Karlutz, 
and  to  see  the  self-righteous  little  fellow's  consciously 
superior  air.  As  for  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  she  had  a 
veritable  passion  for  study,  and  was  the  joy  and  pride  of 
her  tutors.  But  the  Queen  recalled  King  James's  sayings 
condemning  "  over-learned  lassies,"  and  whispered  to  my 
Lady  Phyllis :  "  Monsieur  Sully  said  my  father  was  the 
wisest  fool  in  Christendom,  but  I  vow  his  Majesty  was 
really  wise  in  many  things.  Strange  that  I  should  own 
it  so  late  in  the  day  !  Yet  on  the  subject  of  over-learned 


TIDINGS   OF   DESPAIR  349 

damsels  I  am  heartily  with  him.  My  daughter  Elizabeth 
may  learn  a  whole  library,  but  she'll  ever  be  a  wearisome 
woman." 

One  pleasure  had  come  to  Elizabeth  Stuart  during  the 
last  years,  and  that  was  the  marriage  of  Mademoiselle  de 
la  Tremouille  with  Lord  Strange.  The  Queen  had  been 
"  godmother  to  a  happy  love,"  as  she  put  it,  and  when 
letters  out  of  England  came,  telling  her  that  Charlotte  de 
la  Tremouille  and  her  husband  were  peaceful  and  content 
at  their  fine  country  home,  Lathom  House,  the  haunting 
feeling  that  she  brought  misfortune  to  her  friends  left  the 
Queen  for  awhile. 

Prince  Hal  was  her  chief  occupation  nowadays.  He 
had  grown  into  a  tall  lad,  graceful  and  slender,  with  a 
delicate  wild-rose  complexion  like  his  mother's.  His 
brown  eyes,  too,  were  like  hers,  though  they  still  retained 
the  wide,  appealing  gaze  of  a  child,  and  that  sparkle  and 
lustre  which  life  so  soon  extinguishes.  He  was  not 
"  over-learned,"  albeit  he  studied  swiftly  and  with  interest, 
but  he  loved  to  ride,  to  hawk,  to  run,  to  laugh.  He  was 
truly  after  Elizabeth's  own  heart,  and  she  thought  him 
the  very  picture  of  her  beloved  brother,  that  other  Prince 
Hal  whom  she  had  loved  so  deeply.  Rupert,  too,  promised 
to  be  of  "  the  same  kidney  as  Hal  and  rne,"  as  she 
expressed  it,  but  the  others 

"  Ah,  well !  they  are  little  Calvinists — so  good — so 
fearsome  good,  that  I  could  weep  for  sheer  weariness !  " 
she  would  say  to  my  Lady  Phyllis.  The  people  of  the 
Hague,  even  her  Majesty's  creditors,  smiled  when  they 
saw  the  Queen  and  her  son  riding  through  the  town  to 
the  hunting  beyond  the  Bosch.  They  were  strikingly 
alike,  for  her  Majesty's  green  velvet  hunting-coat  and 
her  large  brown  felt  hat  gave  her,  for  all  the  world,  the 
air  of  a  young  gallant ;  and  Hal,  riding  beside  her,  straight 
and  proud,  wore  the  same  cut  of  coloured  jerkin  and 
his  hat  was  similar.  The  story  went  that  a  stern  old 
Calvinist  dame  of  Rotterdam  had  once  journeyed  to  see 
the  Queen  of  Bohemia,  believing  that  this  idol  of  the 
Puritans  would  be  a  severe  and  hideous  object,  which 


350  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

would  probably  have  edified  the  ancient  lady's  orthodox 
soul.  But,  alas  !  she  had  waited  on  the  Lange  Voorhout 
to  see  the  Queen  ride  out,  and  after  the  cavalcade  had 
gone  by,  and  she  had  been  asked  what  she  thought  of 
her  Majesty,  she  had  answered  wonderingly  that  she  still 
waited  to  see  the  Queen,  for  as  yet  she  had  only  viewed 
a  troop  of  gallants  riding  past.  Then  when  they  had 
told  her  that  the  foremost  "  gallant "  was  Elizabeth  of 
Bohemia,  she  had  refused  to  believe  them;  and  poor, 
honest  old  lady,  she  had  waited  many  hours  till  the  Queen 
had  returned  from  the  chase,  and  when  she  had  made 
sure  that  "  the  Lord's  handmaiden  "  was  this  graceful  being 
in  the  man's  hat  and  coat,  she  had  thrown  up  her  arms, 
calling  God  to  witness  that  His  ways  were  manifold  and 
wonderful,  but  that,  in  her  poor  understanding,  God  and 
the  Puritans  had  made  a  mistake  this  time. 

The  Queen  entered  into  all  Prince  Hal's  pastimes,  for- 
getting for  a  while  the  drudgery  of  poverty,  the  disap- 
pointment of  high  hopes,  the  sorrow  of  her  memory  of 
the  Halberstadter.  It  was  one  of  those  friendships  be- 
tween mother  and  son  which  onlookers  call  foolish  favour- 
itism, but  which  is  perhaps  the  purest  love — the  sweetest 
companionship  that  this  world  holds.  He  was  her  knight, 
her  consoler,  her  joy,  and  he  loved  her  with  an  exalted 
worship,  pure  as  the  knightly  ideal  itself.  When  he  had 
been  but  a  little  fellow,  and  they  had  laughingly  asked 
him  whom  he  would  wed,  he  had  always  answered 
proudly :  "  I  am  going  to  marry  mother."  And  now 
that  he  was  no  longer  a  child,  his  answer  was  ever :  "  As  I 
cannot  marry  my  mother,  I  shall  stay  single  all  my  days." 

Sometimes  the  Queen  sighed,  thinking  how  these  were 
the  sweetest  hours  of  Hal's  life  for  her;  he  was  so  ab- 
solutely hers  now,  and  the  years  must  rob  her  of  this 
entire  possession.  He  would  always  give  her  a  great 
love,  but  he  would  belong  to  another  woman  some  day, 
and  the  mother  would  take  the  second  place.  It  is 
nature's  inexorable  law,  she  knew,  and  she  gave  a  tender 
thought  to  Louise  Juliane  and  smiled,  and  a  compas- 
sionate thought  to  Elizabeth  of  Brunswick  and  sighed  ; 


TIDINGS    OF   DESPAIR  351 

then  her  heart  drew  itself  together  in  a  spasm  of  sudden 
anxiety,  almost  fear.  What  must  it  be  to  see  the  son 
of  all  your  hopes  lie  dead  ? 

One  January  day  the  Hague  was  in  a  turmoil  of  excite- 
ment, the  streets  were  crowded  with  a  stream  of  laughing 
holiday-makers,  the  church-bells  rang  out,  patriotic 
Dutchwomen  hung  gay  carpets  out  of  their  windows. 
News  had  come  that  the  fleet  had  returned  from  the 
West  Indies,  and  hard  on  the  heels  of  the  messenger 
who  had  brought  these  tidings  came  another  rider,  who 
told  how  fifteen  mighty  Spanish  galleons  rode  at  anchor 
in  the  Zuydersee,  prisoners  of  the  Admiral  Pete  Heyn. 
At  last  the  dream  of  avarice  was  an  accomplished  fact : 
Spain's  silver  fleet  was  captured.  For  years  men  had 
spoken  in  hushed  voices  of  the  vast  treasure  which  each 
year  was  conveyed  to  Spain  from  out  the  Indies — ships 
laden  with  silver,  with  gold,  with  pearls,  with  priceless 
cargoes  of  indigo,  of  sugar,  of  precious  woods  and  rich 
furs.  For  years  stories  of  this  treasure-fleet  had  stirred 
the  imagination  of  the  Dutch  nobles  and  merchants  until 
it  had  become  a  tale,  an  Eastern  fable,  a  phantasy  of 
untold  wealth.  And  Holland  went  mad  with  joy,  ex- 
pectation, excitement,  when  the  news  came  that  this 
floating  treasure-house  really  lay  on  the  waters  of  the 
Zuydersee.  The  Hague  seemed  peopled  with  half  deliri- 
ous men  and  women.  Flags  flew  on  hovel  and  stately 
mansion ;  bonfires  were  lighted  at  street  corners ;  there 
was  frantic,  riotous  rejoicing.  The  fierce  factions  of 
Calvin  and  Arminius  forgot  their  polemics  for  a  while 
— the  treasure  of  the  world  glittered  in  their  thoughts, 
and  their  dazzled  souls  turned  from  contemplating  the 
glory  of  God,  that  glory  which,  of  course,  in  the  esti- 
mation of  each  sect,  belonged  only  to  themselves  and 
was  the  glow  of  hell-fires  to  their  opponents  in  theology. 
Pete  Heyn  the  cabin-boy,  who  had  risen  to  be  an 
admiral,  was  the  hero  of  the  hour.  What  mattered  it 
that  he  had  performed  a  hundred  far  more  heroic  deeds  ? 
Heroism  was  glorious,  but  unremunerative,  while  this 
easy  capture  of  untold  wealth  gave  him  for  the  moment 


352  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

a  popularity  as  ardent  as  had  been  that  of  William  I., 
the  Deliverer  of  Holland.  Everybody  felt  himself  to 
be  an  incipient  Croesus  that  January  day.  Many  songs 
echoed  through  the  streets. 

"Piet  Heyn.,  Piet  Heyn, 
Zijn  Naam  is  klein." 

The  refrain  of  the  popular  song  was  yelled  on  the 
Plaats  and  the  Vijverberg,  from  the  Spui  to  the  Kneu- 
terdijke.  Street  vendors  shouted  a  jumble  of  numbers 
written  on  the  freshly  printed  sheets,  giving  the  latest 
estimates  of  the  West  India  Company's  dividends.  The 
shareholders  would  reap  a  harvest  of  fifty  per  cent.  El- 
dorado had  come  to  Holland.  "  Huzza  !  Huzza  !  Piet 
Heyn  !  Lang  zal  hij  leven  !  " 

The  tumult  echoed  through  Elizabeth  Stuart's  parlour 
at  the  house  on  the  Lange  Voorhout,  where  my  Lord  of 
Carlisle,  newly  arrived  at  the  Hague,  was  seated  beside 
her  telling  her  the  news  of  Whitehall.  He  told  how  the 
English  Puritans  made  no  secret  of  their  satisfaction 
that  Henriette  Marie's  first  child,  a  boy,  had  been  "  born, 
baptized,  and  buried  the  same  day ; "  and  how  they  still 
prayed  that  God  would  see  fit  to  bestow  the  English  crown 
upon  "  God's  pure  handmaiden,"  Elizabeth  of  Bohemia. 
The  Queen  had  always  indignantly  silenced  these  too 
zealous  well-wishers  of  hers.  She  knew  that  King 
Charles  was  a  faithful  son  of  England's  Church,  and  that 
his  leaning  to  Popery  was  a  Puritan  invention. 

"  Ah  !  my  Lord  of  Carlisle,"  she  said,  "  I  grow  so  weary 
of  religious  factions !  These  godly  Puritans  have  made 
me  out  a  theological  marvel,  and  thus  I  am  often  plagued 
here  in  Holland  with  sour-visaged  pastors,  who  discuss 
with  me  the  tenets  of  Master  Calvin  and  the  opinions  of 
Arminius."  She  laughed.  "  I  pray  to  God,  and  try  to 
do  my  duty  ;  and  I  care  so  little  what  Master  Uyttenbo- 
gaert  believes  about  the  Holy  Trinity,  or  Master  Smout  of 
Amsterdam  preaches  concerning  Predestination  ! " 

Lord  Carlisle  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  gazed  at  the 
Queen  adoringly.  He  was  an  ill-favoured  man,  of  sallow 


TIDINGS    OF   DESPAIR  353 

skin,  whose  features  Elizabeth  Stuart  had  adequately  de- 
scribed when  she  had  named  him  "  Pig's-face."  He  was 
famed  as  being  an  honest,  if  incapable,  diplomatist,  and 
the  most  lavishly  dressed  courtier  of  his  age.  His  osten- 
tatious splendour  was  a  trifle  vulgar,  but  it  was  redeemed 
by  his  kindliness  and  a  certain  indolent  integrity. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  theology,  your  Majesty,"  he  said 
lazily,  "  save  that  its  discussion  is  mighty  tedious." 

Their  talk  was  interrupted  by  Prince  Hal,  who  dashed 
into  the  parlour  with  flushed  cheeks  and  eyes  dancing 
with  excitement. 

"  Mother,  mother !  Give  me  leave  to  go  with  the  King 
to  see  the  Silver  Fleet  on  the  Zuydersee.  My  father  has 
decided  to  start  to-morrow  with  Christopher  Dohna ! 
All  the  town  is  going !  Madame  ma  mere,  give  me  leave 
to  go  ! "  he  cried. 

She  drew  him  to  her  gently.  "  You  would  see  the 
Spanish  galleons,  son  of  mine  ? "  she  said,  "  and  why  not, 
since  their  advent  will  help  me  pay  the  butcher's  wife, 
who  had  an  all  unqueenly  audience  of  me  again  yes- 
tere'en  ! "  She  smiled  up  at  the  tall  lad.  "  I  warrant, 
Hal,  you  care  little  that  the  capture  of  the  Silver  Fleet 
means  that  the  West  India  Company  will  pay  your  mother 
fifty  per  cent." 

"  I  want  to  see  Piet  Heyn  and  the  shining  cargo, 
mother,"  the  boy  cried,  brimmed  up  with  enthusiasm. 
At  this  moment  the  King  entered  the  room.  After  the 
usual  raising  of  difficulties,  which  is  the  accustomed  atti- 
tude of  the  Teutonic  father  towards  any  pleasurable 
excursion  proposed  by  his  offspring,  King  Friedrich  con- 
sented to  Prince  Hal  accompanying  him  to  the  Zuydersee 
on  the  morrow. 

"  You  had  best  read  a  treatise  on  shipping  to-day,  Hal," 
he  said ;  "  thus  you  will  combine  pleasure  with  profit.  It 
was  thus  that  I  learnt  much  in  my  boyhood  at  Sedan." 

Immediately  Hal,  who  loved  all  appertaining  to  the 
sea,  began  eagerly  to  recount  the  rigging  and  displace- 
ment of  Piet  Heyn's  ships.  King  Friedrich,  who  knew 
as  much  of  seamanship  as  he  did  of  the  mountains  of  the 

z 


354  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

moon,  listened,  half-proud  of  his  son's  intelligence,  half- 
embarrassed  by  the  knowledge  that  Elizabeth  Stuart, 
amused  if  irritated,  was  observing  "  father  schoolmaster 
hiding  his  ignorance  from  the  young  by  pomposity,"  as 
she  was  wont  to  say. 

Friedrich,  Prince  Hal,  Dohna,  and  a  few  gallants 
started  betimes  the  next  morning.  They  were  to  journey 
by  road  to  Amsterdam,  where  a  small  schooner  awaited 
them,  placed  at  their  disposal  by  the  States-General. 

The  Queen  bade  Prince  Hal  farewell  merrily,  telling 
him,  with  a  smile,  not  to  be  a  foolish  babe,  when  he  vowed 
that  his  interest  had  near  vanished  since  she  would  not 
go  with  him. 

"  Do  not  sail  away  with  Piet  Heyn  to  capture  another 
treasure  fleet ! "  she  said,  laughing,  and  then  whispered  to 
him :  "  I  weary  when  my  Hal  is  not  with  me." 

She  settled  down  to  a  couple  of  days'  uninterrupted 
enjoyment  of  her  old  friend  Carlisle's  conversation,  for 
the  weather  had  broken,  and  the  unsmiling  skies  did  not 
tempt  her  to  her  usual  sledging.  It  was  very  homelike 
and  restful  in  the  house  on  the  Lange  Voorhout,  although 
the  velvet  hangings  were  growing  threadbare  and  the 
golden  fringes  on  the  chairs  were  tarnished  and  ragged 
hi  places.  Already  the  exiles'  poverty  was  evident  in 
the  stately  rooms.  But,  after  all,  a  few  years  must  see 
their  Majesties'  return  to  Heidelberg.  Monseigneur  de 
Richelieu  seemed  to  be  more  than  ever  inclined  to  a 
favourable  policy  for  England  ;  he  was  doubtless  displeased 
by  the  increasing  prosperity  of  Austria.  Any  war  against 
the  Empire  would  mean  the  renewal  of  the  efforts  to 
regain  the  Palatinate  for  its  rightful  owners. 

Carlisle  and  the  Queen  discussed  all  this,  sitting  warmly 
beside  the  open  fireplace  in  the  parlour,  while  the  wind 
shook  the  casements  with  angry  gusts,  and  sent  the  rain- 
drops pattering  against  the  window-panes.  The  Queen 
shivered  a  little. 

"  I  love  the  still,  winter  days  of  snow  and  frost,"  she 
said  ;  "  these  gales  from  the  sea,  sweeping  over  the  Hague 
are  unfriendly  visitors.  I  have  ever  dreaded  a  sea-storm. 


TIDINGS    OF   DESPAIR  355 

Perchance  I  have  inherited  my  mother's  terror  from  when 
she  crossed  in  a  furious  tempest  from  Denmark  to  Scot- 
land to  wed  my  father." 

Carlisle  laughed.  "  An  ill  thing,  your  Majesty,  if  we 
must  be  heirs  to  our  parents'  fears !  But  the  House  of 
Stuart  hath  ever  had  strange  knowledge  of  the  past  and 
of  the  future,"  he  said  lightly.  A  fierce  gust  of  wind 
shook  the  casement,  and  like  a  horde  of  tiny  furies  the 
raindrops  attacked  the  window-panes. 

"  Nay,  foreknowledge  is  a  vain  imagination,"  the  Queen 
said.  Then  suddenly  she  cried  out, "  Ah  !  I  would  the  King 
were  returned ;  he  has  been  ailing  lately,  and  this  storm 
will  beat  against  his  ship  on  the  Zuydersee." 

"  He  should  be  far  from  thence  by  now,  madame. 
Surely  he  will  return  here  to-night  ? "  Carlisle  said. 

A  silence  fell  between  them.  The  Queen  leaned  her 
cheek  against  her  hand,  and  gazed  into  the  leaping  flames 
on  the  hearth. 

"  Yes,  he  will  return  to-night.  I  would  he  were  already 
here,"  she  said  slowly. 

Like  a  thief  King  Friedrich  stole  into  his  own  house. 
The  driving  wind  proved  a  good  ally  now,  for  its  moaning 
hid  the  sound  of  steps  on  the  gravel  path,  and  the  creak 
of  the  house-door.  Dohna  was  with  him  and  a  couple 
of  serving-men.  The  house  lay  in  darkness  save  for  the 
faint  flicker  of  a  rushlight  in  the  vestibule,  where  a  lackey 
waited  up,  hi  case  his  Majesty  should  return.  It  was  long 
past  midnight,  and  the  Queen  had  retired  to  rest,  believ- 
ing that  the  King  and  Prince  Hal  had  taken  shelter  from 
the  storm,  and  were  lying  at  Amsterdam.  Dohna  drew 
the  King  into  a  small  parlour  near  the  house-door. 

"  Bring  food  and  wine,"  he  whispered  to  the  serving- 
man.  "  Go  quietly,  above  all  do  not  let  any  one  arouse 
the  Queen." 

Friedrich  flung  himself  into  a  chair,  and  covered  his 
pale  face  with  his  shaking  hands.  "  Oh  God  ! "  he  mut- 
tered hoarsely,  "  must  this  befall  me  too  ?  How  much 
more  ?  God  !  God  ! "  his  voice  rose  to  a  wail. 


356  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Be  silent,  sire  ;  would  you  have  the  Queen  learn  this 
awful  thing  without  warning  ?  "  said  Dohna  almost  roughly. 

"  I  can  never  tell  her — who  can  tell  her  ?  Why  am  I 
alive  to  bring  her  such  tidings  ?  I  could  not  save  him — 
Dohna,  will  she  ever  know  that  I  could  not  ?  He  was 
sucked  down  with  the  sinking  ship — the  waves  ran  so 
high — you  saw  it  too  ?  Dohna,  did  you  hear  him  cry 
out :  '  Mon  pere,  mon  pere !  Sauvez  moi '  ?  Were  you 
in  the  wreck  ?  I  forget."  He  raved  on  piteously,  weakly, 
his  words  so  jerked  out  between  his  sobs  and  the  chat- 
tering of  his  teeth,  that  they  fell  indistinct  and  thick  like 
a  drunkard's  speech. 

The  serving-man  brought  wine,  and  Dohna  held  a 
goblet  to  the  King's  lips  and  forced  him  to  drink  a  few 
drops,  though  his  own  hand  trembled  so  that  he  knocked 
the  goblet's  rim  against  the  King's  teeth.  Dohna,  too, 
had  been  in  the  wreck,  but,  being  carried  away  by  the 
fierce  waves,  he  had  not  seen  the  swift  tragedy  of  Prince 
Hal's  loss.  He  himself  had  only  been  rescued  with  diffi- 
culty by  one  of  Piet  Heyn's  boats,  after  he  had  clung 
to  a  floating  mast  for  some  time.  The  catastrophe  had 
happened  in  an  instant.  The  waves  were  running  high 
beneath  the  gale ;  but,  surrounded  by  the  whole  of  the 
West  India  Company's  fleet  and  by  the  fifteen  Spanish 
galleons,  there  had  seemed  to  be  little  or  no  danger  for 
the  small  schooner  wherein  the  King  and  his  companions 
sailed,  when  a  sudden  blast  of  wind  drove  the  frail  little 
ship  against  a  Spanish  galleon,  and  instantly  the  small 
craft  heeled  over,  filled  rapidly  from  the  rent  in  her  side 
which  the  impact  with  the  larger  ship  had  made,  and 
sank  in  the  wild  sea,  as  though  pulled  down  relentlessly 
by  a  mighty  hand.  Hopes  and  spars  were  thrown  to  the 
drowning  men  from  the  neighbouring  ships,  and  most  of 
the  crew  were  rescued,  save  Prince  Hal  and  the  two 
sailors  who  stood  near  him  in  the  stern.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  reach  the  boy,  who  disappeared  in  the  waves 
with  the  one  despairing  cry  of  "  Mon  pere,  mon  pere, 
sauvez  moi ! "  to  the  King,  who  was  clinging  helplessly 
to  a  broken  spar.  Prince  Hal  could  swim  like  a  fisher- 


TIDINGS    OF   DESPAIR  357 

boy,  but,  in  that  sea  and  fully  dressed,  swimming  was 
nigh  impossible  and  he  was  drawn  down  by  the  suction 
of  the  sinking  ship. 

During  that  terrible  night  Dohna  had  to  listen  to  the 
King's  endless  recapitulation  of  the  miserable  story,  and 
to  his  feeble,  bitter  self-reproaches.  At  dawn  Christopher 
Dohna  left  him  with  a  serving-man  and  hurried  to  the 
Golden  Head,  the  inn  where  my  Lord  of  Carlisle  lay.  Some 
one  must  tell  the  Queen — the  King  could  not — dared 
not.  Somehow  the  fickle,  over-dressed,  over-perfumed, 
ostentatious  courtier  Hay,  Viscount  Doncaster,  Earl  of 
Carlisle,  seemed  to  be  the  only  person  who  could  under- 
take this  awful  task.  The  Countess  of  Nassau  was  away 
from  the  Hague.  Could  her  Highness  Amalia  of  Orange 
tell  the  Queen  ?  In  the  midst  of  his  sadness,  Dohna 
smiled  as  he  hurried  down  the  Hoogstraat  to  the  hostelry. 
Her  Highness  of  Orange  had  never  forgiven  the  Queen 
for  a  remark  her  Majesty  had  been  overheard  to  make 
to  my  Lady  Phyllis  Devereux  as  they  left  the  Binnenhof 
after  visiting  the  Princess  of  Orange,  who,  proud  mother 
of  her  first  child,  had  lain  a-bed. 

"  Poor  Amalia ! "  the  Queen  was  reported  to  have  said ; 
"  she  is  very  well  in  health,  but  oh !  how  ugly  in  that 
hideous,  plain  bed-gown  !  Why  must  virtue  so  often 
drape  itself  in  thick  linen,  alack ! "  There  had  been  a 
coolness  between  the  ladies  since  that  day,  which  was  not 
lessened  by  the  fact  that  his  Highness  the  Stadthouder 
remained  the  Queen's  admiring  partisan,  and,  whenever 
he  had  paid  a  fleeting  visit  to  the  Hague  during  the  pro- 
tracted siege  of  Hertogenbusch,  he  had  always  repaired 
to  the  house  on  the  Lange  Voorhout  to  offer  his  faithful 
homage  to  his  cousin's  wife. 

"  My  dear  husband  is  so  kindly  to  the  poor  Queen," 
Dohna  had  once  heard  her  Highness  remark,  and  her 
accent  of  sour  pity  had  seemed  an  insult  to  its  object. 
No,  the  Princess  of  Orange  was  scarcely  the  person  to 
break  the  terrible  news  to  her  Majesty. 

They  told  her  in  the  morning  that  the  King  had  not 


358  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

yet  returned,  and  she  rose  and  dressed  as  usual,  gave 
her  commands  for  the  day,  ordered  the  servants  to  pre- 
pare for  the  dinner  the  dishes  which  the  King  and  Prince 
Hal  preferred.  They  would  surely  be  home  that  day, 
and  would  be  weary  and  hungry  after  their  long  jaunt. 
She  noted  that  her  tiring-woman's  eyes  were  reddened 
with  weeping. 

"  What  is  amiss,  my  poor  girl  ? "  she  said  kindly ;  but 
the  woman  had  the  wit  to  tell  her  that  she  had  quarreled 
with  one  of  the  serving-women,  and  the  Queen  inquired 
no  further. 

They  came  and  announced  that  my  Lord  of  Carlisle 
was  below  and  craved  audience  of  her  Majesty,  and 
without  anxiety  she  went  to  greet  her  old  friend. 

She  came  gaily  into  the  parlour,  which  on  that  clear 
morning  was  flooded  with  sunshine.  She  said  lightly  to 
him  that  she  was  still  a  deserted  wife  and  mother ; 
laughingly  averred  that  the  King  must  be  robbing  the 
Silver  Fleet,  as  he  stayed  away  so  long.  Then,  seeing 
Carlisle's  white  face,  she  cried  out  that  he  was  surely  ill, 
and,  when  he  shook  his  head,  she  stopped  short,  like  one 
who  suddenly  sees  the  brink  of  an  abyss. 

"  Carlisle !  what  have  you  come  to  tell  me  ? "  she 
asked.  And  then — somehow — he  had  told  her,  told  her, 
he  said  afterwards,  "  like  a  fool  or  a  brute." 

"  Madame,  there  has  been  an  accident  on  the  Zuyder- 
see.  Your  son  is  drowned — "  He  thought  she  had  not 
heard  him,  for  the  smile  on  her  lips  remained  unchanged  ; 
she  was  like  one  turned  to  stone  with  that  gay  smile 
untouched,  save  that  it  seemed  to  be  fixed  for  ever. 

He  told  her  all  he  knew — of  the  wreck,  of  the  surging 
waves,  of  how  the  King  had  been  barely  rescued.  She 
uttered  no  word,  but  gazed  at  him  as  though  he  had 
spoken  in  an  unknown  tongue.  And  then,  very  quietly, 
she  sank  down  at  his  feet  like  a  broken  flower. 

For  days  she  lay  insensible.  Perchance  some  angel 
who  had  been  a  woman  once,  had  laid  a  merciful  hand 
upon  her,  stilling  her  consciousness — some  angel  who 
knew  that  there  are  agonies  too  great  to  bear. 


TIDINGS    OF   DESPAIR  359 

The  King  kneeled  at  her  bedside,  moaning  and  weep- 
ing, praying  her  not  to  desert  him  too ;  but  she  lay  with 
her  still,  white  face  upturned  to  the  embroidered  balda- 
quin of  the  four-poster  bed,  her  long  brown  lashes  sweeping 
her  cheek,  her  lips  calm  as  the  lips  of  the  dead. 

As  one  who  wakens  from  sleep,  she  came  back  to  life 
at  last.  She  knew  them  all,  but  she  was  very  weak 
physically.  She  never  spoke,  and  they  had  the  mercy 
to  let  her  be.  Dohna  took  the  King  away  to  Rhenen. 
The  physicians  said  that  she  was  so  weak  that  a  further 
strain  would  leave  her  hopelessly  insane. 

She  lay  there  quite  still,  tearless,  silent.  They  thought 
she  had  forgotten  the  awful  message  which  my  Lord  of 
Carlisle  had  brought  her. 

One  morning,  about  six  days  after  they  had  carried 
her  to  her  bedchamber,  she  was  lying  as  usual  motion- 
less, seemingly  detached  in  mind  and  soul  from  all  the 
world.  Beside  her  bed  was  Carlisle,  who  had  prayed  to 
be  allowed  to  watch  over  her  while  her  ladies  break- 
fasted. The  door  was  standing  a  little  ajar ;  it  creaked, 
and  a  blunt,  brown  nose  pushed  it  open,  and  Prince  Hal's 
spaniel  crept  in.  Carlisle  held  his  breath.  The  dog  had 
never  left  the  boy,  and  since  his  death  he  had  wandered 
about  the  house,  piteously  seeking  the  little  master  he 
would  never  find  again.  Perhaps  Hal's  dog  would  recall 
the  mother — ah  yes !  to  agony,  but  to  life.  Carlisle's 
right  hand  caught  the  delicate  lace  of  his  sleeve-ruffle 
and  twisted  it  to  a  string.  The  sweat-drops  stood  out 
on  his  sallow  face.  He  deemed  that  on  what  happened 
now  depended  the  sanity  of  Elizabeth  Stuart. 

The  dog  sniffed  about  the  room  seeking,  ever  seek- 
ing, his  dead  master.  Deliberately,  wagging  his  tail,  he 
came  up  to  the  bed,  and,  standing  on  his  hind  legs,  he  laid 
his  soft  fore  paws  on  the  embroidered  coverlet.  The 
Queen  opened  her  eyes,  feeling  the  weight  on  the  cover- 
let and  hearing  the  rasp  of  the  paws  against  the  satin. 
Slowly  her  hand  went  out  and  rested  on  the  dog's  smooth, 
silky  head,  and  she  spoke  in  a  weak,  thin  voice  as  of  one 
who  is  returning  from  mortal  sickness : 


360  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Brady !  poor  one,  what  is  it  ? "  The  dog  whined 
piteously  and  clambered  awkwardly  up  beside  her, 
nozzling  his  blunt  nose  in  her  white,  listless  hand. 

Carlisle  bent  forward.  "  He  seeks  him,  madame ;  he 
seeks  Prince  Hal ! " 

She  turned  her  great,  sombre  eyes  upon  him  with  the 
despairing  glance  of  a  hunted  deer  at  bay,  and  then  her 
look  travelled  down  to  the  dog.  He  gave  a  short,  sharp 
yap,  and  looked  at  her  questioningly. 

She  sat  up  weakly  and  drew  the  animal  to  her. 
"  Brady  dog — Brady  dog  ! "  she  said,  and  the  poor  beast 
whined  again,  hearing  the  familiar  name,  for  his  master 
had  always  called  him  "  Brady  dog,"  and  the  Queen's 
voice  was  so  like  Hal's. 

Then,  at  last  the  Queen's  strange  apathy  broke,  and 
the  tears  came.  She  fell  back  on  her  pillows,  weeping 
wildly.  The  dog,  whimpering,  crept  close,  and  she  put 
her  arm  round  his  neck  and  held  him  to  her.  My  Lord 
of  Carlisle  rose  noiselessly  and  slipped  from  the  room, 
closing  the  door  carefully  behind  him.  "  My  God,  I 
thank  Thee,"  he  said  solemnly. 

There  was  not  only  pain  in  Elizabeth  Stuart's  heart, 
but  an  infinite  yearning  pity  for  the  child  thus  wrenched 
away  from  all  he  had  been  taught  to  trust.  She  agonised 
at  the  thought  of  Hal  whom  she  had  sheltered,  whose 
weakness  had  ever  clung  to  her  strength,  being  flung  out 
to  battle  alone  in  the  world  of  the  dead.  In  vain  she 
told  herself  that  God  Almighty  gathers  the  dead  into  His 
safe  keeping — she  was  always  tortured  by  the  vision  of 
the  boy  striving  towards  her  with  outstretched,  imploring 
hands  and  questioning  eyes.  She  saw  him  bewildered — 
lonely.  She  heard  him  call  to  her :  "  You  who  have 
never  failed  me,  you  whom  I  trust,  will  you  fail  me  now  ? 
Why  am  I  abandoned  ? "  She  pictured  to  herself  those 
beloved  brown  eyes  gazing  over  the  crest  of  a  ruthless 
wave ;  she  heard  him  cry  out,  "  Mon  pere,  mon  pere ! 
Sauvez  moi ! " 

At  times  a  passion  of  rage  and  scorn  against   King 


TIDINGS   OF   DESPAIR  361 

Friedrich  filled  her.  He  had  heard  Hal  calling  on  him 
for  help,  and  yet  he  had  lived  to  say :  "  Our  son  is  dead 
— I  could  not  save  him." 

It  was  nothing,  she  told  herself,  that  she  missed  the 
boy,  that  each  hour  brought  her  as  a  physical  suffering,  a 
stab  of  memory  of  happy  days,  the  remembrance  of 
trivial  things,  of  shared  pleasantries,  of  the  little  common- 
place sayings  of  companionship.  Though  this  was  pain 
unutterable,  she  felt  that  because  it  was  her  own  pain 
she  could  bear  it,  nay,  would  master  it,  so  that  bitterness 
should  not  mar  the  beauty  of  her  memory  of  her  first- 
born. Her  first-born !  God  never  gives  so  fair  a  gift  as 
a  woman's  first-born  child — and  if  He  takes  it  back — 
may  He  have  mercy  on  each  mother  who  must  suffer 
this  awful  grief! 

Yet  Elizabeth  told  herself  proudly  that  she  could  bear 
all  things — there  was  no  limit  to  courage — but  that 
which  tugged  at  her  heart-strings  because  it  was  not  her 
own  pain  and  she  might  not  assuage  it,  was  the  pain 
that  she  feared  for  Hal.  She  knew  not  if  he  suffered, 
yearned,  was  afraid,  or,  pray  God  !  was  at  peace  ?  No 
price  would  have  been  too  great  to  pay  for  this  know- 
ledge, she  thought.  Surely,  surely,  the  wealth  of  love 
and  sorrow  which  she  gave  must  be  counted  as  payment 
for  peace  and  some  fair  beatitude  for  him,  wherever  he 
was  ? 

"  God,  God  of  the  sorrowful,"  she  prayed,  "  let  me 
suffer,  but  give  him  rest."  And  she  listened  for  some 
answer,  sought  for  some  certitude — she,  the  reasonable 
woman,  who  knew  that  there  is  no  answer  and  no 
certitude  on  earth. 

The  dull  days  of  grief  went  on.  She  thought  she  had 
lived  a  life's  span  since  that  far-off  terrible  day.  But 
there  comes  a  time  when  the  soul  cannot,  nay,  will  not 
suffer  more.  It  is  as  if  the  well  of  tears  were  dry,  as  if 
agony  had  exhausted  the  power  of  sorrowing. 

"  II  faut  parler  de  chasse  et  non  de  larmes, 
Parler  d'oyseaux  et  de  chevaux  et  d'armes, 
C'est  trop  pleure." 


362  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Yet  it  is  no  merciful  indifference  which  comes  to  the 
stricken  heart,  but  rather  an  impotence  to  suffer  more,  a 
desperate  clinging  to  the  joy  of  life,  an  almost  frenzied 
turning  to  gaiety  or  its  semblance,  And,  indeed,  there 
is  healing  therein,  for  Time  is  thus  given  respite  to  work 
his  will.  Time  and  Sorrow  are  combatants,  and  Sorrow 
thus  temporarily  paralysed,  Time  gains  a  slow  victory. 

So  it  was  with  Elizabeth  Stuart,  and  though  her  eyes 
were  full  of  despair,  her  lips  learned  to  smile  again,  the 
lassitude  of  body  left  her,  and  she  took  part  once  more 
in  hunts  and  merrymakings.  Some  who  saw  her  mocked. 
"  She  is  soon  cured,"  they  said.  But  those  who  spoke 
thus  were  the  men  and  women  who,  being  incapable  of 
fierce  suffering,  did  not  know  that  unless  merciful  death 
comes  swiftly  to  the  deeply  stricken,  there  is  an  absolute 
necessity  for  the  strong  natures  to  return  to  the  fulness 
of  life.  They  cannot  creep  about,  these  strong  ones, 
cannot  crawl  through  the  days  whining.  As  the  strong 
body  must  take  nourishment  to  live,  so  must  the  strong 
soul  drink  of  the  fountain  of  occupation  and  joy — or  go 
under  in  madness. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

THE   WINTER  KING 

"  O  weary  life  !     0  weary  death  ! 
O  spirit  and  heart  made  desolate  ! " 

— TENNYSON 

ONCE  more  the  exiled  monarch's  hopes  revived.  The 
increasing  power  of  Austria  had  long  displeased 
France.  The  Hanseatic  League,  though  tradi- 
tionally loyal  to  the  Empire,  had  bitterly  resented  the 
Emperor's  attempt  to  tamper  with  the  freedom  of  their 
trade  in  the  North  Sea  and  the  Baltic.  Upon  their 
refusal  to  allow  their  ships  to  be  under  an  Imperial  Nor- 
thern Admiralty,  Wallenstein,  created  Duke  of  Mecklen- 
burg since  his  conquest  of  that  dukedom  in  the  name  of 
Austria,  had  beleaguered  the  Hanse  town  Stralsund,  whose 
citizens  had  called  in  the  aid  of  Christian  of  Denmark 
and  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  of  Sweden.  After  a  prolonged 
siege  the  Imperial  troops  had  been  withdrawn,  Denmark 
had  made  peace  with  the  Emperor,  and  the  Northern 
Admiralty  scheme  had  been  temporarily  abandoned. 

It  had  seemed  as  though  peace  approached  at  last, 
when  in  March,  1629,  the  Emperor  promulgated  the 
Edict  of  Restitution,  and  it  was  clear  that  the  cessation 
of  hostilities  was  but  a  lull  in  the  storm.  Even  Ferdi- 
nand's own  advisers  urged  him  to  withhold  the  Edict, 
which  all  knew  must  cause  the  continuance  of  war ;  but 
Ferdinand  now  dropped  the  mask  of  toleration  which  he 
had  worn  so  long,  and  revealed  himself  as  the  fanatical 
servant  of  Ultra-Romanism  and  as  a  greedy  amasser  of 
wealth  for  the  House  of  Hapsburg.  The  Edict  decreed 
the  restitution  of  all  Church  property  held  by  the  Pro- 
testants even  in  the  Protestant  countries  of  the  Empire : 


368 


364  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

archbishoprics,  now  the  appanage  of  princes,  bishoprics, 
monasteries,  broad  acres  of  Church  lands  which  had  been 
sequestrated  at  the  Reformation.  These,  for  the  most  part 
Ferdinand  bestowed,  in  anticipation,  upon  his  eighteen- 
year-old  son  Leopold  William,  despite  the  Church's  decree 
interdicting  the  accumulation  of  Church  dignities  and 
wealth  upon  one  individual,  be  he  prince  or  priest.  From 
every  side  the  Edict  was  greeted  by  a  storm  of  rage.  Even 
the  Pope,  seeing  that  the  Hapsburg  intended  to  garner 
the  rich  harvest,  expressed  his  disapproval.  This  fresh 
Imperial  aggression  decided  Gustavus  Adolphus  to  oppose 
the  Emperor  by  force  of  arms.  The  Austrian  Baltic  policy 
had  been  a  distinct  menace  to  Sweden,  and  if  Northern 
Europe  was  to  share  the  fate  of  Bohemia  and  be  made 
Catholic  at  the  point  of  the  sword,  Gustavus  Adolphus's 
right  to  the  Swedish  crown  was  challenged.  The  Emperor 
had  ever  refused  him  the  title  of  King,  which  he  gave  to 
Gustavus  Adolphus's  Catholic  cousin,  Sigismund  of  Poland, 
from  whom  Sweden's  crown  had  been  wrested  by  the  Pro- 
testant Charles  IX.,  father  to  Gustavus  Adolphus.  Poland 
and  Sweden  had  long  been  at  war,  and  the  Emperor  had 
repeatedly  sent  monies  and  troops  to  Sigismund.  Gustavus 
Adolphus  now  concluded  a  treaty  of  peace  with  Poland, 
and  prepared  to  take  the  field  in  the  name  of  oppressed 
Protestantism. 

King  Charles  of  England,  engaged  in  negotiations  with 
Ferdinand,  refused  to  take  part  in  the  coming  campaign ; 
and  Richelieu,  although  he  looked  favourably  upon  any 
enterprise  calculated  to  harrass  the  Empire,  considered 
Gustavus  Adolphus  as  a  condottiere  of  the  type  of  Mans- 
feld  or  of  Bethlem  Gabor,  another  brilliant  adventurer  who 
would  flash  through  Germany  and  then  gutter  out  like  a 
torch  before  the  mighty  breath  of  Austria's  power.  There- 
fore, though  Richelieu  sent  a  large  sum  of  money  to 
Gustavus,  France  officially  held  aloof. 

Towards  the  beginning  of  July  1630, Gustavus  Adolphus, 
with  thirteen  thousand  men,  landed  on  the  coast  of  Pome- 
rania.  At  first  the  campaign  went  rather  tamely,  and 
Gustavus  only  gained  small  victories,  although  the  Im- 


THE  WINTER  KING  365 

perial  troops  were  half-hearted  in  consequence  of  their 
leader  Wallenstein's  absence.  He  had  been  recalled  by 
Ferdinand  to  answer  the  charges  brought  against  him 
by  the  electors  in  conclave  at  Regensburg.  Ferdinand, 
desirous  of  procuring  the  nomination  of  his  son  as  King 
of  Rome,  was  truckling  to  the  electors  upon  whose  vote 
this  nomination  depended ;  and  although  he,  in  obedience 
to  their  wishes,  dismissed  Wallenstein,  the  electors  refused 
him  their  votes.  Wallenstein  retired  to  Prague,  and  Tilly, 
now  an  old  man  of  seventy-four,  was  placed  in  command 
of  the  Imperial  forces  in  his  stead. 

Meanwhile  the  citizens  of  Magdeburg,  fearful  lest  by 
the  Edict  of  Restitution  they  should  be  forced  to  accept 
the  return  of  a  Popish  archbishop,  had  declared  for  Gus- 
tavus,  and  had  placed  their  city  in  a  state  of  defence. 

In  the  late  autumn  of  1630  Gustavus,  having  con- 
quered Pomerania,  at  last  marched  southwards,  but  still 
no  decisive  action  was  fought,  although  the  Swedes  suc- 
ceeded in  taking  Frankfort  on  the  Oder.  In  May  1631 
Magdeburg  fell  before  Tilly ;  the  inhabitants  were  cruelly 
massacred,  and  the  whole  town  burnt  in  spite  of  Tilly's 
efforts  to  check  his  brutal  soldiery.  There  followed  the 
battles  of  Werben  and  of  Leipzig.  The  victorious  Gus- 
tavus then  marched  through  Thiiringen  and  Franconia 
to  the  Rhine,  and  invested  Mainz  and  Frankfurt  on  the 
Main,  where  he  decided  to  remain  in  safe  quarters  for 
the  winter. 

John  George  of  Saxony,  alienated  from  the  Empire  by 
Ferdinand's  refusal  to  cancel  the  Edict  of  Restitution,  had 
sent  his  army  to  serve  under  Gustavus;  these  troops  the 
Swedish  king  had  despatched  soon  after  the  battle  of 
Leipzig  to  hold  Prague  in  the  name  of  Protestantism. 
Gustavus  now  invited  King  Friedrich  to  repair  to  Frank- 
furt to  join  in  the  great  campaign  against  Romanism  and 
oppression.  The  Swedish  monarch,  who  had  once  been  a 
suitor  for  the  hand  of  Elizabeth  Stuart,  proclaimed  him- 
self to  be  her  champion — his  sword  should  redress  her 
bitter  wrongs,  he  would  win  back  a  kingdom  for  her,  he 
fought  for  her  and  the  Protestant  faith. 


366  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Charles  of  England  still  refused  his  aid,  and  her 
Majesty  wrote  to  him  a  little  bitterly  that,  if  he  "  did 
nothing  but  treat,"  she  and  her  family  would  remain  for 
ever  a  burthen  upon  him.  Angrily  King  Charles  cried 
out  that  his  sister  misjudged  him  ;  with  an  exchequer  over 
two  millions  in  debt,  how  could  he  undertake  to  support 
an  army  ?  He  granted  permission,  however,  to  James, 
Marquis  of  Hamilton,  to  raise  a  troop  of  volunteers,  and 
he  managed  to  screw  a  decent  sum  out  of  his  exhausted 
treasury,  but  even  this  was  done  under  the  seal  of  secrecy, 
for  England  was  in  treaty  with  Austria. 

Yet  surely  the  dawn  of  a  brighter  day  was  breaking  for 
the  exiles. 

"  We  cannot  always  be  unfortunate  ! "  the  Queen  cried. 
"  Every  dog  hath  his  day,  dear  my  lord ;  and  sure,  our 
day  is  coming." 

But  Friedrich  gazed  gloomily  through  the  rain-blurred 
parlour-window.  "  We  had  our  day  at  Heidelberg — it 
will  never  return  to  us,"  he  said. 

"  Courage  ! "  she  cried  half-angrily  ;  "  the  States  have 
voted  you  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  thalers ;  they 
have  given  you  two  thousand  of  their  best  cavalry  as 
escort ;  our  kind,  dull  cousin  of  Orange  hath  given  twenty 
thousand  thalers  —  in  spite  of  Amalia,  I'll  be  bound ! 
Come,  poor  sad  one  !  all  is  going  well.  Courage  ! " 

He  came  to  her,  and,  kneeling  down  beside  her,  he 
rested  his  brow  on  her  shoulder.  "Dear  heart,"  he 
murmured,  "  my  mind  misgives  me.  Methinks  misfor- 
tune is  a  bad  habit  which  we  have  fallen  into.  I  have 
hoped  so  often  that  I  am  afraid  of  hoping." 

"  Friedrich,  this  is  weakness  ! "  she  said  gently.  "  You 
are  too  strong  to  give  in  to  hopelessness." 

"  I  strong  ? "  he  laughed  bitterly.  "  I  sometimes  think 
that  my  very  life  depends  on  your  strength,  and  that,  if 
you  were  far  from  me  and  illness  came,  I  should  die  just 
because  you  were  not  near." 

There  was  something  infinitely  pitiful  in  this  avowal, 
this  relinquishing  of  all  dignity  of  being  by  a  man  who 
usually  cloaked  his  weakness  by  a  pompous  assumption 


THE  WINTER  KING  367 

of  manly  independence.  What  he  spoke  was  true  enough, 
and  both  he  and  Elizabeth  Stuart  had  long  known  it. 
But  there  are  some  things  which  must  never  be  put  into 
words,  or  that  which  was  a  tacit  understanding  becomes 
an  open  degradation. 

Elizabeth  had  lately  given  birth  to  another  child.  "  Pray 
God,  it  is  not  the  commencement  of  a  new  dozen,"  she  had 
said,  with  one  of  her  whimsical  smiles,  for  though  sorrow, 
despair,  and  humiliation  had  swept  over  her,  her  sense  of 
humour  never  failed  her.  "  You  see,  I  am  ever  of  my 
wild  humour  to  be  merry,"  she  had  once  written  to  Louise 
Juliane,  who  had  sighed  when  she  had  read  the  words, 
thinking  that  Elizabeth  Stuart  was  incurably  frivolous, 
though  even  her  Calvinistic  soul,  half-surprised,  had  paid 
tribute  to  this  dauntless  woman. 

There  was  tremendous  excitement  in  the  Hague  over 
the  preparations  for  the  King's  departure,  and  daily  re- 
cruits came  in  offering  their  services.  A  whole  army 
corps  could  have  been  enrolled,  but  Friedrich  dared  not 
saddle  himself  with  too  large  a  force,  as  his  funds  were 
inadequate  to  support  more  than  a  hundred  horse. 

For  years  a  veritable  troop  of  young  English  gentle- 
men had  come  to  the  Hague,  ostensibly  to  learn  the 
theory  of  warfare  under  Frederik  Hendrik  of  Orange,  who 
had  shown  himself  to  be  a  worthy  successor  to  his  brother 
Maurice,  and  there  were  even  some  who  said  that  his 
military  prowess,  though  less  showy,  was  more  efficacious 
than  his  predecessor's.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  Hague 
was  filled  with  young  foreigners  studying  strategics,  and 
haunting  the  "  Bohemian  Court."  Among  them  was  Sir 
William  Craven,  the  son  of  a  rich  London  merchant.  He 
had  served  with  distinction  under  Frederik  Hendrik  at 
the  protracted  siege  of  Hertogenbusch,  and  returning  to 
England  with  letters  of  warm  recommendation  from  his 
commander,  King  Charles  had  conferred  a  peerage  upon 
him.  But  a  magnet  drew  Lord  Craven  back  to  the  Hague. 
He  was  still  a  youth,  for  he  had  been  only  sixteen  when 
in  Holland,  and  Elizabeth  Stuart  had  scarce  noticed  the 
gentle,  quiet  boy  with  the  steady  grey  eyes.  But  a  patient 


368  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

devotion  had  grown  in  Craven's  heart  for  the  exiled  Queen. 
Very  short  and  slight,  he  ever  looked  younger  than  he  was, 
and  gradually  she  grew  accustomed  to  his  quiet  presence. 
King  Friedrich  liked  him,  and  he  was  constantly  invited 
to  the  house  on  the  Lange  Voorhout.  "  Little  Craven," 
and  "  the  little  man,"  she  called  him,  and  she  treated  him 
almost  as  a  child. 

When  it  was  settled  that  the  King  was  to  join  Gustavus 
Adolphus,  Craven  prayed  to  be  allowed  to  journey  to  the 
camp  as  one  of  his  Majesty's  own  gentlemen,  and  some- 
how Elizabeth  Stuart  felt  that  she  could  let  Friedrich 
go  forth  with  a  quieter  heart  if  the  "  little  man "  went 
with  him. 

The  Hague  citzens  gave  the  King  an  ovation.  En- 
thusiastic crowds  lined  the  streets,  flags  flew,  the  church- 
bells  chimed  merrily.  In  the  Council  Chamber  of  the 
Binnenhof  the  States-General  assembled  to  bid  him  God- 
speed. The  grave,  black-clad  burgesses  bowed  before  him 
as  though  he  had  been  already  a  hero  returned  from 
victory.  It  seemed  as  though  the  whole  world  was  assured 
that  at  length  the  unfortunate  monarch's  luck  had  turned. 
And  Friedrich,  ever  easily  elated  and  as  easily  cast  down, 
caught  fire  from  their  warm  confidence  and  promised  a 
speedy  return. 

"  My  reverend  sirs  ! "  he  cried,  "  I  doubt  not  that  'twill 
be  but  a  few  months  ere  I  come  to  bear  away  her  Majesty 
and  my  children  to  my  reconquered  dominions,  yet  I 
would  pray  a  last  favour  from  your  unfailing  bounty, 
this :  that  you  should  guard  the  widow  and  the  orphans 
until  my  glad  return."  He  spoke  half-jocosely,  and  the 
ill-omened  words  fell  heedlessly  from  his  lips,  but  some 
among  his  hearers  wondered  that  he  should  speak  thus ; 
yet,  for  the  nonce,  amid  the  general  acclamation  the 
strange  saying  was  forgotten  in  the  interest  aroused  by 
the  speech  made  by  Jacob  Cats,  the  Pensionary  of  Dor- 
drecht, who  had  been  chosen  by  the  States  as  spokesman 
that  day  by  reason  of  his  known  friendship  with  their 
Bohemian  Majesties. 

The  King  marched  out  of  the  Hague  with  his  hundred 


THE  KING  OF  BOHEMIA. 

After  a  picture  by  Miereveldt  in  the  Collection  of  the  Earl  of  Craven  at  Combe  Abbey. 


THE  WINTER  KING  369 

mounted  gentlemen  and  the  large  escort  provided  by  the 
States-General.  The  cannon  boomed  royal  salutes,  the 
populace  shouted,  and  the  joy-bells  rang.  Friedrich  King 
of  Bohemia  was  setting  forth  to  claim  his  own  again,  the 
Protestant  champion  was  going  to  join  the  new  Protestant 
hero.  The  time  of  tribulation  was  nigh  ended. 

Good  news  came  to  the  Hague,  the  King  had  arrived 
safely  at  his  Majesty  of  Sweden's  winter  quarters  in 
Frankfurt,  and  had  been  received  with  regal  honours. 
Gustavus  Adolphus  had  insisted  on  his  taking  precedence 
over  all,  had  styled  him  "  Majesty,"  and  had  sharply  re- 
primanded a  Saxon  gentleman  who  had  called  him  "  your 
Highness."  Friedrich  wrote  that  there  were  gay  doings 
at  Frankfurt  in  honour  of  the  Queen  of  Sweden's  arrival. 
He  told  how  there  had  been  a  masquerade,  and  that 
Gustavus  Adolphus  had  donned  the  woollen  hose  and 
white  apron  of  the  innkeeper's  son;  that  her  Majesty, 
Queen  Eleanor,  had  dressed  as  a  Swedish  peasant  woman, 
and  that  he,  Friedrich,  had  disguised  himself  in  a  monk's 
cowl  and  gown.  There  had  been  great  hilarity,  he  said, 
when  it  had  been  seen  how  monklike  he  looked,  he,  the 
champion  of  Protestantism;  and  King  Gustavus  had 
laughed  and  declared  that  Friedrich  had  betrayed  him- 
self, he  was  really  a  Jesuit  in  disguise  and  no  Calvinist. 
Elizabeth  Stuart  smiled  and  sighed  when  she  read  this, 
smiled  at  the  unwonted  gaiety  of  the  tone  of  Friedrich's 
letter — sighed  because  she  realised  that  the  debonair 
youth  she  had  married  was  now  a  sad-faced  man,  hollow- 
cheeked,  and  with  deep,  sunken  eyes,  who  would  in  a 
monkish  garb  fulfil  the  Protestant's  notion  of  a  Jesuit : 
a  sombre,  haggard,  furtive  being.  But  all  this  would 
change  when  fortune  smiled  again,  she  thought,  and 
surely  the  hour  of  triumph  was  not  far  off  now.  At  the 
news  of  each  victory  the  Queen's  confidence  grew.  The 
town  of  Kreuznach  had  fallen,  and  the  "little  man" 
Craven  had  so  distinguished  himself  by  his  dash  and 
courage  at  the  assault,  that  the  King  of  Sweden  had  laid 
a  kindly  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  had  told  him  that  he 

2  A 


370  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

seemed  determined  to  give  some  younger  brother  a  chance 
of  inheriting  his  wealth.  After  the  conqueror's  entry  into 
the  city, King Friedrich  had  been  enthusiasticallyacclaimed 
by  Hamilton's  Scottish  troops.  The  day  of  triumph  was 
dawning. 

A  check  came  to  the  Queen's  elation ;  there  had  been 
a  fire  at  Heidelberg,  and  much  of  the  castle  had  been 
destroyed.  It  was  said  that  the  Spanish  garrison  had 
set  fire  to  it,  fearing  lest  it  should  fall  into  the  hands 
of  the  avenging  Protestant  hosts. 

"  We  will  rebuild  it  next  year,  dear  my  lord — be  not 
downcast,"  she  wrote  to  Friedrich,  for  none  doubted 
Gustavus  Adolphus's  ultimate  victory.  He  would  brook 
no  half-hearted  allegiance  on  the  part  of  the  Protestant 
Princes,  who  were  now,  at  last,  united  for  the  Cause. 
Even  his  brother-in-law,  the  wavering,  specious  George 
William  of  Brandenburg,  had  been  forced  to  declare 
against  the  Emperor.  To  effect  this,  indeed,  it  had  been 
necessary  for  Gustavus  to  inarch  to  Berlin,  but,  when  the 
dreaded  Swedes  had  appeared  before  the  walls,  George 
William  had  decided  to  throw  in  his  lot  with  the  Protes- 
tant army.  It  was  whispered  now  that  the  Swedish  king 
intended  to  proclaim  himself  Emperor  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire  ;  it  was  known  that  Richelieu  had  offered  to 
procure  his  nomination  as  King  of  Rome.  The  dream 
which  lived  in  the  Swedish  hero's  mind  was  doubtless  to 
found  a  Northern  Empire  comprising  all  the  German 
Protestant  States  and  excluding  only  Austria  and  Bavaria, 
which  would  remain  under  the  sway  of  the  ancient 
Southern  Empire.  He  had  planned  to  unite  the  Houses 
of  Vasa  and  of  Hohenzollern  by  marrying  his  six-year-old 
daughter  Christina  to  Friedrich  Wilhelm  of  Brandenburg, 
son  of  the  Elector  George  William ;  Pomerania  was  to  fall 
to  them  by  treaty  on  the  death  of  Duke  Boguslav,  and 
Denmark  should  be  annexed  by  a  future  war.  All  the 
princes  of  Germany  should  swear  fealty  to  Sweden,  and 
the  free  towns  and  lay  bishoprics  should  also  be  under 
the  protection  of  this  mighty  new  power.  There  should 
be  an  Imperial  Diet  at  Stockholm  to  which  each  prin- 


THE  WINTER  KING  371 

cipality  should  send  delegates.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  dream 
of  empire  which,  in  part,  has  become  reality  under  the 
descendants  of  that  very  Friedrich  Wilhelm  of  Branden- 
burg, though  it  has  come  about  without  Sweden's  par- 
ticipation therein.  Soaring  plans,  indeed,  and  surely 
calculated  to  awaken  the  alarm  of  France. 

The  Emperor's  cause  seemed  to  be  in  an  evil  plight; 
the  Spanish  troops  were  needed  for  the  relief  of  Maastricht 
in  Holland,  closely  besieged  by  Frederik  Hendrik  of 
Orange,  and  Gustavus  Adolphus  held  nearly  the  whole 
Rhine  Province  and  threatened  the  Bavarian  frontier. 
In  March  1632  he  entered  Niirnberg  and  was  greeted 
by  the  populace  as  the  new  Joshua.  Then  he  swept  on  to 
Donauworth.  Here,  too,  he  was  welcomed  with  rapture. 
Maximilian  of  Bavaria  trembled  for  the  safety  of  Munich, 
but  placed  his  confidence  in  his  army  under  Tilly  which 
protected  the  Bavarian  frontier  beyond  Donauworth.  On 
April  15th  Gustavus  shattered  Tilly's  army  at  Rain,  on 
the  river  Lech,  and  the  venerable  commander  Tilly  was  so 
sorely  wounded  that  he  died  a  few  days  later  at  Ingold- 
stadt.  The  Swedish  army  now  took  the  town  of  Augsburg, 
and  early  in  May  the  victors  marched  into  Munich. 

Friedrich  of  Bohemia  had  never  left  King  Gustavus's 
side  during  this  wonderful  campaign ;  and  although  there 
had  been  protracted  discussions  between  the  two  monarchs 
as  to  the  future,  and  sometimes  the  Swede's  evident 
determination  to  exact  a  fair  price  for  his  assistance 
had  disappointed  Friedrich,  still  a  warm  affection  and 
confidence  had  sprung  up  between  them.  Yet  deep  dis- 
couragement peeped  through  the  conscientiously  hopeful 
tone  of  Friedrich's  letters  to  Elizabeth.  From  the 
Niirnberg  camp  he  had  written  that  he  would  never 
have  believed  Gustavus  could  have  treated  him  "so 
ungenerously,"  for  the  settlement  of  the  Palatine  affairs 
seemed  as  far  off  as  ever  despite  the  Swede's  many  victories. 
He  longed  for  peace,  for  the  ending  of  all  this  fruitless 
endeavour.  "Plut  a  Dieu!"  he  wrote,  "qu"  eussions  un 
petit  coin  au  monde  pour  y  vivre  contents  ensemble ! 
C'est  tout  le  bonheur  que  je  me  souhaite." 


372  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Nevertheless,  as  hie  and  Gustavus  wandered  together 
through  the  Bavarian's  magnificent  palace,  Friedrich  felt 
that  the  Swedish  king  had  already  in  a  measure  avenged 
his  bitter  wrongs. 

There  were  many  Bohemian  cannon  left  at  Munich, 
which  Maximilian  had  captured  at  the  battle  of  the  White 
Mountain,  but  the  Bavarian  jewels  were  hidden  safely 
away,  and  with  them  that  jewelled  ribbon  of  the  Garter 
which  Friedrich  would  so  gladly  have  reclaimed.  "  My 
good  cousin  Ferdinand  hath  taken  away  his  best  goods," 
he  wrote  to  Elizabeth ;  "  there  are  many  handsome  things 
left,  but  mighty  difficult  to  remove."  And  then,  with  a 
touch  of  his  usual  querulousness,  he  added :  "  But  even 
were  it  not  so  I  should  have  none  of  them."  For  Gustavus 
Adolphus  had  forbidden  the  plundering  of  the  conquered 
cities, and  a  certain  bitterness  was  growing  up  in  Friedrich's 
heart  against  the  Swedish  King.  Friedrich  could  not  learn 
the  simple  rule  of  human  life,  this — that  no  one  does 
anything  without  payment;  and  he  raged  weakly  that 
Gustavus  gave  help,  gave  vengeance,  gave  the  hope  of 
restitution,  but  that  he  openly  avowed  that  he  would 
exact  payment  herefore,  that  when  the  Palatinate  fell 
to  Friedrich,  Sweden  would  expect  to  hold  a  couple  of 
Palatine  towns,  certain  promises  of  money  and  future 
alliance,  and  freedom  of  worship  for  the  Lutherans  in  the 
Palatinate,  as  her  legitimate  share  of  the  spoil. 

In  Munich  the  weary  soldiery  was  permitted  a  few 
days'  repose,  and  even  the  impetuous  Gustavus  was  not 
loth  to  rest  there  awhile,  although  he  was  loud  in  his 
condemnation  of  the  climate  and  his  disapproval  of  the 
scenery  round  the  town.  He  said  that  Munich  was  "  a 
golden  saddle  upon  a  sorry  nag."  It  is  possible  that  the 
lustre  of  patriotism  had  dazzled  his  eyes  when  he  had 
gazed  on  Sweden,  otherwise  this  saying,  coming  from  the 
lips  of  one  who  had  enjoyed  the  Swedish  climate,  is  in- 
comprehensible. However,  Gustavus's  sojourn  in  Munich 
was  but  short,  for  the  Emperor,  aghast  at  the  Swede's 
success,  had  summoned  Wallenstein  to  his  aid.  Also  the 
Imperialists  had  gained  some  advantage  in  Swabia,  and 


THE  WINTER  KING  373 

Gustavus  quickly  evacuated  Munich,  and  marched  to  the 
aid  of  the  Wirtemberg  Protestants. 

Wallenstein,  meanwhile,  had  driven  the  Saxons  out  of 
Prague,  and  had  advanced  to  the  neighbourhood  of 
Niirnberg.  Gustavus,  knowing  his  army  to  be  too  small 
to  risk  an  attack  upon  Wallenstein  while  Maximilian  of 
Bavaria  with  his  troops  threatened  him  from  the  west- 
ward, withdrew  into  Nurnberg,  and  for  two  months  the 
opponents  faced  each  other  but  remained  inactive.  At 
length  Gustavus  was  forced  to  make  an  effort  to  get  his 
troops  away  from  the  Nurnberg  neighbourhood,  which 
by  now  was  swept  bare  of  provisions ;  and  on  Septem- 
ber 23rd  he  attacked  Wallenstein,  but  was  repulsed  and 
again  fell  back  on  Nurnberg. 

He  now  decided  to  leave  a  garrison  in  the  town,  and  to 
run  the  gauntlet  along  the  enemy's  lines  in  order  to  gain 
a  freer  field  of  action.  Wallenstein  allowed  the  whole 
army  to  march  away  unmolested,  although  the  Swedish 
soldiers  constantly  fired  into  his  camp.  Shortly  after- 
wards Wallenstein  marched  to  Leipzig,  which  he  seized 
and  refortified  as  a  punishment  to  John  George  of  Saxony 
for  having  joined  Gustavus.  Wallenstein  was  reinforced 
by  Pappenheim  who,  foiled  in  his  attempt  to  relieve  Maest- 
richt,  still  besieged  by  Frederik  Hendrik  of  Orange,  had 
successfully  invested  Hildesheim  and  was  now  free  to  join 
the  main  army. 

Friedrich  of  Bohemia  had  left  Gustavus  when  the 
Nurnberg  camp  was  raised.  Sick  at  heart  and  despon- 
dent he  had  withdrawn  to  Mainz.  It  had  seemed  to  him 
that  there  was  but  little  use  in  following  the  fortunes  of 
Gustavus  farther.  He  had  served  faithfully  during  the 
arduous  campaign ;  he  was  ailing  and  needed  rest,  so  he 
averred.  In  reality  a  sudden  nostalgia  had  come  to  him, 
a  longing  to  be  in  or  near  the  Palatinate.  God  knows,  it 
was  a  melancholy  pilgrimage  that  he  made !  The  once 
smiling  country,  rich  in  waving  wheatfields  and  grandly 
wooded  slopes,  the  happy,  prosperous  villages,  the  stately 
castles  and  goodly  dwelling-places  were  now  charred, 
downtrodden  waste  lands  and  blackened  ruins.  The 


374  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

peasants  had  either  fled  or  slunk  about  their  ravaged 
homesteads,  miserable  and  terror-stricken.  The  King 
wrote  to  Elizabeth  that  he  had  gone  hunting  with  har- 
riers, and  that  he  had  longed  "  avidement "  for  her  to  be 
by  his  side.  She  read  between  the  lines  how  heart-sore  he 
was,  how  the  sight  of  the  havoc  wrought  in  his  homeland 
had  given  the  death-wound  to  his  already  broken  spirit. 
Piteously  he  assumed  a  hopefulness  she  knew  he  did  not 
feel.  "  Yet  all  this  would  be  easy  to  restore,"  he  wrote ; 
but  Craven  had  written  that  it  would  take  the  lifetime  of 
two  generations  to  re-establish  the  famed  opulence  of  the 
Palatinate,  and  she  believed  the  unostentatious,  practical 
knowledge  of  the  "  little  man  "  more  than  poor  Friedrich's 
feeble  optimism. 

They  were  weary  days  in  the  Hague.  Sophie  of 
Nassau  was  in  great  grief  for  the  loss  of  her  husband, 
Ernest  Casimir  of  Nassau,  who  had  fallen  at  the  storm- 
ing of  Roermund.  Amalia  of  Orange,  too,  was  in  a  state 
of  depressed  anxiety  for  her  Frederik  Hendrik,  who  was 
still  besieging  Maastricht.  Her  Highness's  depression  was 
duly  communicated  to  her  decorous  Court,  and  it  was  the 
mode  for  all  to  go  about  with  faces  of  woe,  and  to  speak 
in  that  hushed  tone  which  is  supposed  to  befit  o'erdarkened 
days.  The  Queen,  of  course,  would  have  none  of  this ; 
she  rode  out,  she  busied  herself  with  books  and  letters, 
she  spoke  in  her  accustomed  sonorous  tones.  Anxiety 
was  hard  to  bear,  as  she  said,  but  wry  faces  and  whining 
voices  had  never  charmed  fortune  back,  or  averted  sorrow. 

Towards  the  middle  of  November  the  news  came  of  the 
battle  of  Liitzen,  the  most  disastrous  victory  that  an  army 
has  ever  won  :  Gustavus  Adolphus  had  fallen.  It  was 
whispered  that  the  Swedish  hero  had  been  treacherously 
done  to  death  by  Duke  Franz  Albert  of  Lauenburg,  always 
suspected  of  double-dealing  and  envy  of  Gustavus.  He 
had  ridden  at  the  King's  side  in  the  mele'e,  and  the  fact 
that  Gustavus  was  shot  through  the  back  induced  many 
to  believe,  though  no  proof  has  ever  been  adduced  to 
support,  this  dark  story. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  had  once  more  to  face  the  shattering 


THE  WINTER  KING  375 

of  her  hopes,  for  although  there  had  been  disagreements 
concerning  the  terms  of  the  Palatinate's  restitution,  she 
knew  that  ultimately  the  valiant  Swede  Avould  have  given 
Friedrich  back  his  rightful  heritage.  Death  had  again 
fought  against  her. 

The  joy-bells  rang  in  the  Hague,  the  cannon  thundered 
salutes,  flags  flew  from  every  house,  and  the  streets  were 
full  of  enthusiastic  revellers.  Maastricht  had  fallen  some 
time  back,  and  Frederik  Hendrik  of  Orange  and  his  troops 
were  returning  in  triumph  to  the  Hague.  Amalia  of 
Orange  welcomed  her  excellent,  substantial  hero,  and  there 
were  splendid  rejoicings  at  the  Binnenhof ;  men  shouted 
his  name  in  the  streets,  and  the  pealing  bells  proclaimed 
the  glorious  return  of  yet  another  great  warrior  of  the 
House  of  Orange. 

In  the  house  on  the  Lange  Voorhout  Elizabeth  Stuart 
listened  dully  to  this  tintamarre  of  rejoicing.  She  neither 
spoke  nor  wept,  only  from  time  to  time  she  unfolded  the 
paper  whereon  were  written  the  tidings  of  the  death  of 
Friedrich,  King  of  Bohemia.  It  was  a  short  enough 
missive,  penned  by  Spina,  the  doctor  who  had  tended 
King  Friedrich,  and  addressed  to  Mijnheer  Rumf,  physi- 
cian to  the  Queen  of  Bohemia.  In  terse  phrases  it  set 
forth  how  the  King  had  been  ailing  for  some  time,  but 
that  he  had  insisted  upon  riding  forth  to  visit  his  cousin, 
the  Duke  of  Zweibriicken.  On  his  return  to  Mainz  he 
had  fallen  grievously  sick,  and  the  doctor,  fearful  lest  he 
had  taken  the  plague  which  was  raging  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, had  examined  him  and  found  three  plague  spots  on 
his  body.  After  a  few  days  the  violent  symptoms  had 
abated,  however,  and  Spina  had  believed  his  Majesty  to 
be  on  the  road  to  recovery.  Then  had  come  the  news 
of  the  battle  of  Llitzen,  and  of  the  loss  of  Gustavus 
Adolphus.  "  His  Majesty,  lying  sick  in  bed,  turned  his 
face  to  the  wall,  and  moaned  out  that  now  his  last  hope 
was  taken  from  him,"  wrote  Spina.  A  few  hours  after 
delirium  had  set  in,  and  on  November  19th  he  had 
breathed  his  last  in  the  hostelry  at  Mainz.  There  was  a 


376  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

rumour  that  he  had  been  poisoned,  but  Spina  averred 
that  he  had  died  of  plague  and  a  sheer  surrender  of  his 
energy  to  live. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  tortured  herself  with  the  thought  that 
if  she  had  been  with  the  King  he  would  not  have  died. 
Had  he  not  said  that  his  very  life  depended  on  her 
strength  ?  A  piteous,  unmirthful  smile  twisted  her  lips 
for  an  instant — she  realised  that,  in  the  midst  of  her 
grief,  she  was  half  wroth  with  Friedrich  for  having  given 
in  to  death  so  easily.  The  doctor  had  written  that  it  had 
been  as  though  the  King  had  surrendered  his  spirit  out 
of  sheer  sorrow  for  Gustavus  Adolphus.  Sorrow  !  Eliza- 
beth Stuart  knew  that  it  had  been  the  sorrow  of  hopeless, 
helpless  discouragement.  Poor  Friedrich !  poor,  feeble 
being,  tortured  by  his  own  weakness ! 

Her  mourning  for  Friedrich  was  chiefly  an  immensity 
of  pity,  a  longing  to  help  the  dependent  soul  of  him  who 
had  loved  her,  who  had  lusted  for  earthly  power  to  his 
undoing  indeed — but  always  for  her — to  crown  her  queen, 
to  give  her  greater  honours.  She  grieved  more  as  a 
mother  grieves  for  a  lost  child  than  as  a  woman  mourns 
her  mate.  Her  mate  ?  Christian  the  Halberstadter  had 
been  her  mate — he  alone  !  And  now  she  was  free,  Fried- 
rich's  weak  soul  no  longer  lay  on  her  heart  as  an  abiding 
task — a  beloved  task,  but  a  task  for  all  that — but  Chris- 
tian was  dead — Christian  and  Friedrich — and  there  was 
no  meaning  left  in  life  for  her. 

A  touch  of  horror  and  of  sordidness  was  added  to 
Elizabeth  Stuart's  grief,  for,  as  in  life  so  in  death,  Fried- 
rich's  strange  destiny  of  unrest  continued.  At  first  the 
Protestant  army  requested  that  the  mortal  remains  of  their 
champion  should  not  be  entombed.  When  victory  came 
his  coffin  should  be  borne  in  triumph  before  the  conquer- 
ors !  In  vain  the  Queen  wrote  that  he  should  be  laid  to 
rest  at  Heidelberg  in  the  Heilig-Geist  Church  beside  his 
forbears.  His  brother  Louis  was  administrator  of  the 
Palatinate,  a  title  surely  given  in  derision,  for  who  could 
administer  a  country  claimed  by  a  rightful  owner,  and  by 
a  new  proprietor  whose  possession  was  sanctioned  and 


THE  WINTER  KING  377 

upheld  by  an  Emperor,  whose  technical  right  of  disposal 
was  supported  by  the  presence  of  an  armed  host  in  the 
disputed  territory  itself? 

Count  Louis  planned  to  inter  King  Friedrich  with  be- 
fitting pomp  in  Heidelberg;  but  he  hesitated, partly  because 
he  wished  to  content  the  Protestant  army,  partly  because 
of  his  inability  to  carry  out  his  plan,  for  the  country  was 
overrun  with  Spaniards  and  Bavarians. 

With  horror  the  Queen  realised  that  some  mischance 
of  warfare  might  place  the  helpless  clay  in  the  enemy's 
power,  and  she  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  the  insults 
to  the  dead  which  would  ensue. 

At  length  she  heard  that  they  had  carried  the  King  to 
Frankenthal,  that  he  lay  in  peace  in  his  own  half-ruined 
castle.  But  the  same  despatch  told  her  that  the  misery- 
maddened  populace  had  greeted  the  shabby  cortege  with 
howls  of  bitter  mockery,  that  the  coffin  had  been  borne 
into  the  castle  amid  a  shower  of  stones  and  lilth  thrown 
by  the  people  who  had  once  poured  benedictions  on  their 
beloved  Prince,  whom,  in  death,  they  greeted  with  such 
cruel  contumely.  It  was  written  that  the  body  could  not 
remain  at  Frankenthal  for  fear  of  some  ghastly  outrage ; 
the  peasantry,  debased  by  misery,  was  furiously  hostile — 
Frankenthal  was  insecure. 

At  last,  at  dead  of  night,  secretly,  in  haste  and  fear, 
they  bore  King  Friedrich  out  of  the  half-ruined  palace 
where  he  had  lain ;  but  the  people  had  heard  what  was 
to  be  done.  A  snarling  crowd  gathered  before  the  portals, 
and,  amid  yells  and  foul  imprecations,  the  rough  cart  with 
its  helpless  burthen  was  driven  away  into  the  night.  Yet, 
even  now,  the  cruelty  of  Fate  had  not  done  with  Friedrich 
of  Bohemia.  The  cart  was  but  a  couple  of  loosely  nailed 
boards,  and  the  driver  told  afterwards  how  "  the  restless 
prince  could  not  lie  still,"  for  many  times  the  ricketty 
wheels  had  stuck  in  the  ruts  of  the  ill-tended  roads,  and 
the  coffin  had  been  flung  into  the  mud. 

Some  three  years  after  his  death  the  unhappy  King 
was  laid  to  rest.  The  homeless  wanderer  could  not  even 
find  the  refuge  of  a  grave  in  that  homeland  he  had  learned 


378  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

to  long  for,  that  homeland  which  he  had  bartered  for  a 
shadowy  crown.  At  last  he  was  entombed  in  Sedan ;  but 
men  had  lost  all  interest  in  Friedrich  of  Bohemia,  and  it 
was  not  deemed  of  sufficient  importance  to  chronicle 
where  he  lay.  Who  cared,  after  all,  save  the  sorrowing 
woman  far  away  in  Holland,  made  helpless  by  distance 
and  powerless  by  poverty  ? 

And  thus  to-day  no  one  can  point  the  finger  of  scorn 
or  bestow  a  look  of  pity  on  the  tomb  of  Friedrich  of  the 
Palatinate,  the  Whiter  King. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

D'ESPINAY 

"  Mourir  pour  ma  belle 
Tra-la-la." 

ENG  years  had  passed,  and  still  Elizabeth  Stuart 
waited  at  the  Hague  for  the  ever-deferred  return 
to  Heidelberg.  The  world  had  almost  forgotten 
that  she  was  only  a  visitor  in  Holland,  and  her  Court 
on  the  Voorhout  was  universally  recognised  as  a  centre 
of  culture.  It  was  the  fashion  for  travellers  to  pause 
a  few  days  at  the  Hague  and  to  be  presented  to  her 
Majesty.  It  did  not  signify  that  the  house  on  the  Lange 
Voorhout  had  grown  very  shabby,  with  tattered  viol-brown 
velvet  hangings  and  threadbare  chair-covers ;  it  did  not 
matter  that  her  Majesty's  debts  were  so  numerous  now 
that,  as  she  put  it,  she  was  fully  accredited  to  the  debtors' 
prison  !  The  entree  to  her  Court  was  more  sought  after 
than  an  invitation  to  the  Binnenhof,  where  Amalia  Solms 
ruled  in  solid,  comfortable  splendour. 

Somehow,  albeit  Elizabeth  Stuart  had  said  adieu  to 
youth,  she  remained  the  queen  of  charm,  the  romantic 
figure  it  was  profoundly  interesting  to  have  seen.  Tra- 
vellers like  Mister  John  Evelyn,  on  the  grand  tour, 
hastened  to  kiss  her  Majesty's  hand,  and  he  recorded 
the  fact  in  his  diary  among  the  accounts  of  all  the  re- 
markable things  he  had  seen  on  his  travels. 

Sometimes  it  seemed  to  Elizabeth  Stuart  as  though 
her  whole  strange  past  had  been  a  dream,  some  romance 
she  had  heard.  All  the  actors  in  that  Prague  drama 
had  vanished  from  her  life.  Old  Anhalt,  after  years  of 
wandering  as  a  proscribed  rebel,  had  received  a  free 
pardon  from  the  Emperor,  and  had  retired  to  his  castle 

379 


380  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

of  Bernburg,  where  he  had  lived  in  entire  seclusion  until 
his  death  in  1630.  Christel,  too,  at  last  set  free  from 
his  prison  in  Vienna  upon  parole  never  more  to  fight 
against  the  Emperor,  had  withdrawn  to  Bernburg,  and 
had  married  a  princess  of  the  House  of  Holstein-Sonder- 
burg.  He  had  passed  as  utterly  out  of  Elizabeth  Stuart's 
life  as  though  he  had  indeed  perished  on  the  battlefield 
of  the  White  Mountain.  "  Alas  '  I  am  as  useless  to  you 
as  a  dead  man  ! "  he  had  once  written  to  her,  for  each 
year  he  wrote  her  a  formal  letter  which,  for  all  its  brevity, 
still  let  her  know  that  she,  and  she  alone,  was  the  romance 
of  his  life.  Yet  he  never  came  to  Holland,  but  remained 
faithfully  with  his  Eleanora  of  Holstein  and  his  mono- 
tonous existence.  The  Thurns,  father  and  son,  were  dead. 
My  Lady  Phyllis  Devereux  and  the  other  ladies-in-waiting 
had  long  left  her  and  were  married  in  England.  Her  High- 
ness Louise  Juliane  was  dead.  Elizabeth  Stuart  lived  now 
with  a  new  young  world ;  she  shared  her  memories  with 
no  one.  Often  she  spoke  of  old  days  with  faithful  little 
Craven,  but  he,  too,  only  knew  her  life  since  her  sojourn 
at  the  Hague. 

Her  Majesty's  children  were  grown  men  and  women 
now ;  mighty  troublesome,  too,  they  were.  The  princes, 
turbulent  and  ardent,  were  the  acknowledged  ringleaders 
of  the  riotous  bands  of  young  nobles,  Dutch  and  foreign, 
who  were  at  the  Hague.  Not  Karlutz,  indeed  !  He  had 
grown  into  a  handsome,  self-satisfied  man,  stern  to  the 
failings  of  others,  with  a  cold  pomposity  which  some  took 
for  dignity ;  strong,  because  he  was  absolutely  indifferent 
to  the  feelings  of  his  companions.  "  Alas !  alas !  how 
narrow-hearted  is  Karlutz  !  "  the  Queen  cried  to  the  Prin- 
cess Elizabeth. 

"  Madame  ma  mere,  my  brother  takes  his  task  as  head 
of  the  house  very  seriously,"  the  learned  maiden  answered  ; 
and  the  Queen  sighed,  for  the  years  had  taught  her  to  sigh 
instead  of  to  rage.  She  often  felt  herself  to  be  younger 
than  her  own  children.  Certainly  the  Princess  Elizabeth, 
with  her  wise,  sober  ways  and  her  austere  studies,  was  all 
unsuited  to  the  Queen's  strong,  direct  nature.  Henriette, 


D'ESPINAY  381 

gentle  and  merry,  with  her  fair  face  and  the  flaxen  hair 
which  she  had  inherited  from  her  Danish  grandmother, 
was  more  to  the  Queen's  taste ;  and  Louise  Hollandine, 
gay  and  disorderly,  pleased  Elizabeth  better  than  her 
more  demure  sisters.  When  Monsieur  Descartes,  lean 
and  beetle-browed,  came  to  talk  philosophy  with  Prin- 
cess Elizabeth,  the  Queen  would  whisper  to  Craven  :  "Ah  ! 
look,  I  pray  you,  my  lord,  at  Elizabeth  settling  the  world 
by  a  theory !  Alack !  but  her  deep  thoughts  have  made 
her  nose  red,  and  yet  they  cannot  assuage  her  sorrow  at 
this  unwelcome  colouring ! " 

But  the  Queen  was  interested  in  Louise  Hollandine's 
studies.  She  loved  to  wander  about  the  studio,  which 
she  had  given  to  Louise  at  Rhenen,  while  Mijnheer  Hont- 
horst  painted,  and  talked  of  his  student  years  in  Rome,  or 
explained  some  technical  detail  of  painting  to  his  pupil. 

Little  Princess  Sophie,  sharp-tongued  and  impulsive, 
was  never  a  favourite  with  her  mother,  and  an  unspoken 
tragedy  was  enacted  between  them ;  the  child,  seeking 
for  love  and  jealous  of  the  Queen's  affection,  grew  bitter- 
hearted,  and  deemed  that  Elizabeth  Stuart  loved  her 
monkeys  and  her  dogs  better  than  her  children.  Yet 
this  thought  was  unexpressed  then;  only  years  after- 
wards the  bitterness  came  out  when  the  great  Electress 
of  Hanover,  Queen  Designate  of  England,  wrote  her 
memoirs ;  but  that  was  long  after  Elizabeth  Stuart  and 
her  world  had  passed  away,  and  the  dead  do  not  rise  up 
to  refute  even  the  harsh  judgments  of  their  own  children. 

Despite  the  ever-present  anxiety  of  poverty  the  Queen 
of  Bohemia's  Court  was  gay  enough.  Many  peaceful  days 
were  passed  at  Rhenen,  and  the  Queen  almost  dreamed 
herself  back  at  Heidelberg,  when  she  gazed  on  the  mighty 
sweep  of  the  Rhine,  flowing  away  through  the  green  fields 
and  past  the  beech-groves.  And  yet  echoes  of  strife  ever 
came  to  disturb  her.  England  was  in  the  throes  of  revolt, 
really  a  most  distressing  episode  for  King  Charles  I.,  though, 
of  course,  the  whole  pother  would  soon  be  ended.  Prince 
Rupert  and  Prince  Maurice  had  fought  gallantly  in  the  royal 
cause,  and  Elizabeth  Stuart  proudly  heard  of  their  exploits. 


382  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Ah  •  sweet  niece  ! "  she  cried  out  to  Princess  Mary, 
William  II.  of  Orange's  young  wife,  Princess  Royal  of 
England,  "  would  we  were  men  to  lend  a  hand  against 
these  prick-eared  rebels  !  I  vow  I  envy  our  cousin  Char- 
lotte de  la  Tremouille  !  What  a  splendid  destiny  that  gave 
a  woman  the  opportunity  to  show  such  courage ! " 

"  She  was  ever  a  trifle  mannish,  methinks,  ma  cousine," 
said  Princess  Amalia,  who  was  present. 

"  She  is  a  woman  of  spirit,  Amalia.  Lord  love  us  !  we 
can  all  learn  to  brew  possets  and  to  stitch  a  seam,  but  few 
of  us  would  venture  to  hold  a  castle  against  a  horde  of 
rascally  besiegers  ! "  the  Queen  cried.  She  took  a  letter 
from  a  casket  filled  with  papers. 

"  Here  is  a  letter  from  Rupert  which  tells  how,  two 
years  ago,  Charlotte  held  out  for  many  weeks ;  how,  at 
last,  my  Lord  Fairfax  went  off  back  to  the  army,  leaving 
the  siege  of  Lathoin  House  to  a  wretched  old  attorney, 
who  had  the  house  attacked  with  mortar  and  cannon  ! 
Fairfax  was  ashamed  of  fighting  against  a  woman,  I'll  be 
bound !  Rupert  had  the  honour  of  coming  to  my  Lady 
of  Derby's  rescue;  at  his  approach  the  besiegers  slunk 
away." 

Princess  Mary's  pale  cheeks  glowed,  and  her  eyes  were 
lit  with  enthusiasm  at  this  story  ;  but  Amalia  of  Orange 
looked  sour  and  self-righteous. 

"  Very  fine,  no  doubt ;  but  scarcely  womanly,"  she  said. 

"  Womanly  ! "  cried  the  Queen,  "  the  word  womanly 
has  been  invented  by  men  who  want  a  silly  fool  to  hang 
about  them  and  humour  their  every  whim.  Womanly  ! 
why  should  it  be  against  a  woman's  nature  to  behave  like 
a  gentleman  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  your  Majesty,"  said  Amalia  in  a 
disagreeable  voice. 

"  I  never  thought  you  would,  cousin."  answered  the 
Queen  good-humouredly,  "  but  this  I  tell  you,  that  if 
women  can  save  England,  the  King  is  not  in  so  sorry  a 
plight  after  all !  I  hear  that  even  Cromwell's  womenkind 
are  Royalists  at  heart,  and  my  Lady  Fairfax  is  so  openly 
loyal,  that  my  lord  is  much  embarrassed  thereby." 


D'ESPINAY  383 

"  It  is  surely  unseemly  for  a  female  to  oppose  her 
spouse,"  said  Amalia  sharply.  "  I  should  never  question 
the  Stadthouder's  wisdom." 

"  You  get  your  own  way  generally,  my  Lady  of  Orange, 
for  all  your  wifely  submissiveness,"  the  Queen  said  im- 
patiently. 

"  I  trust  I  am  never  unwomanly,"  retorted  Amalia. 

"  No,  ma  cousine,  you  are  never  unwomanly,"  the 
Queen  answered  quietly. 

None  doubted  that  the  rebellion  would  be  crushed  in 
time ;  yet  Strafford  had  gone  to  his  death ;  Laud,  too,  had 
been  sacrificed,  and  civil  war  raged  over  the  length  and 
breadth  of  England.  At  Marston  Moor  "  God  had  made 
Prince  Rupert's  cavalry  to  fall  like  stubble  "  beneath  the 
rebels  swords,  and  at  Naseby  the  King's  army  had  been 
entirely  vanquished.  Montrose  had  been  defeated  at 
Philiphaugh,  but  the  King  was  now  safe  in  the  hands  of 
his  loyal  Scotsmen,  and  surely  a  few  months  would  see 
the  end  of  this  disorder  and  trouble.  That  summer  of 
1646  Elizabeth  Stuart  lingered  on  at  the  house  on  the 
Lange  Voorhout.  She  heard  the  English  news  more 
promptly  in  the  Hague  than  at  Rhenen,  and  albeit  she 
was  so  hopeful  of  the  swift  settlement  of  affairs,  she  was 
anxious  and  ill  at  ease.  Rupert  was  in  France,  "  dis- 
graced for  the  one  prudent  act  of  his  life  ! "  as  the  Queen 
said,  referring  to  his  surrender  of  Bristol  to  the  Parlia- 
mentarians. Edward  was  in  Paris,  caressed  and  approved 
by  the  whole  French  Court  since  his  abjuration  of  Pro- 
testantism and  his  marriage  with  Anne  de  Gonzaga. 
Maurice,  too,  was  wandering  about  somewhere  in  France. 

Heavy  thunder  weather  brooded  over  the  Hague,  even 
the  freshening  sea-breeze  after  set  of  sun  only  gave 
respite.  All  day  the  Queen  remained  in  the  panelled 
parlour,  with  the  ragged  brown-velvet  hangings  drawn 
across  the  windows  to  shut  out  the  heat.  It  was  in- 
tolerably dull  at  the  Hague.  The  Binnenhof  Court  had 
removed  to  Honsholredijk,  the  Stadthouder's  newly  built 
country  palace.  Frederik  Hendrik,  always  a  martyr  to 


384  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

gout,  had  suddenly  failed  in  health,  and  prematurely  old, 
he  had  entirely  resigned  his  will  to  the  outwardly  sub- 
missive ordering  of  Amalia  Solms. 

In  the  small  parlour,  where  years  ago  Dohna  had 
ministered  to  King  Friedrich  that  stormy  midnight  after 
the  accident  on  the  Zuydersee,  Louise  Hollandine  had  set 
up  her  easel,  and  was  busy  drawing  a  chalk  study  of 
Princess  Sophie.  Louise's  gown  was  crumpled  and  untidy 
as  usual,  and  her  lace  collar  was  torn.  Her  brown  hair 
was  ruffled,  and  a  smudge  of  charcoal  blackened  her 
cheek.  Sophie  watched  her  lazily,  she  noted  each  detail 
of  her  sister's  untidy  appearance,  noted  too,  the  dinginess 
of  the  chairs  and  table-covers  in  the  small  parlour.  The 
door  stood  open,  and  they  could  hear  the  sound  of 
Princess  Henriette  singing  softly  to  herself  as  she  sat 
before  her  embroidery  frame,  in  the  embrasure  of  one  of 
the  passage  windows  overlooking  the  courtyard.  There 
was  a  heavy  stillness  in  the  air. 

"  What  can  we  do  to-day  ?  It  is  too  hot  to  live  ! "  said 
Sophie ;  "  and  oh  !  Louise,  your  whole  face  is  black !  " 

"  Turn  your  head  more  to  the  left,  mon  enfant,  and 
don't  gabble,"  Louise  Hollandine  said  abstractedly. 

"Is  that  hateful  d'Espinay  coming  here  to-day  as 
usual  ? "  the  girl  asked  crossly. 

"  Monsieur  d'Espinay  must  come  each  day  to  speak 
about  the  horses,  why  else  is  he  Master  of  the  Horse  ? 
I  cannot  think  why  Elizabeth  and  all  of  you  are  so  harsh 
about  him,"  Louise  answered. 

"  He  is  a  scurvy  knave  ! "  the  girl  broke  out  hotly. 

"  Tut,  tut,  Mistress  Pert,  such  names  from  a  young 
maiden's  lips  ! "  said  Louise,  laughing. 

"  I  hate  him,  and  so  doth  Philip." 

"  Philip  and  you  are  foolish  children ;  d'Espinay  treats 
you  as  such ;  that  is  why  you  honour  him  with  your  dis- 
approval," Louise  said  shrewdly. 

A  step-fall  came  on  the  stone  floor  of  the  corridor,  and 
Elizabeth  Stuart  entered.  She  had  changed  but  little 
during  the  years.  Her  figure  had  grown  ampler,  her 
brown  hair  was  streaked  with  grey,  and  her  face  was 


D'ESPINAY  385 

paler  than  of  yore,  but  the  great  sombre  eyes  were  as 
brown  as  ever,  and  the  haunting  Stuart  smile  still  played 
about  her  lips. 

"  Alack  !  children,"  she  cried,  "  I  vow  I  am  weary  of 
your  sister  Elizabeth ;  she  has  sat  motionless  these  two 
hours  reading,  bent  over  her  books.  Where  is  Philip  ? " 

"  He  has  gone  a-riding  in  the  Bosch  with  the  Prince  of 
Portugal  and  Monsieur  de  Pellnitz,"  said  Sophie. 

The  Queen's  face  darkened.  Young  Emanuel  of 
Portugal  was  the  son  of  that  illegitimate  Prince  of  the 
House  of  Braganza  who  had  married  a  penniless  and  ill- 
favoured  Princess  of  Nassau,  and  after  an  absurd  attempt 
to  claim  the  Portuguese  throne,  had  settled  in  the  Nether- 
lands. The  younger  Emanuel  did  not  share  in  his  father's 
political  ambitions ;  it  was  enough  for  him  that  kinship 
gave  him  the  entree  to  the  Binnenhof.  He  spent  his 
time  at  the  Hague,  this  riotous,  dissolute  youth  who  had 
sustained  a  leading  part  in  every  broil  of  the  last  six 
years.  He  and  Prince  Maurice  had  been  among  the 
young  bloods  who,  some  five  years  since,  had  held  up  the 
Portuguese  minister's  coach  as  this  fussy,  ceremonious 
diplomat  had  driven  one  night  down  the  Voorhout — a 
foolish  prank,  only  meant  to  annoy  the  minister;  but 
swords  had  been  drawn  and  angry  words  had  passed,  and 
shortly  afterwards  a  Portuguese  gentleman  had  challenged 
Maurice ;  a  duel  had  been  fought,  and,  the  Portuguese 
having  been  run  through  the  heart,  Maurice  had  been 
obliged  to  leave  the  Hague.  The  Queen  had  never  for- 
given Emanuel  for,  as  she  believed,  encouraging  Maurice 
in  his  wild  ways.  And  now  young  Prince  Philip  and  he 
were  boon  companions !  As  for  Pellnitz,  he  was  an  over- 
grown schoolboy,  bragging,  self-assertive,  with  a  round, 
silly,  pug-dog's  face,  "  not  a  bad  boy,  but  unfortunately  a 
consummate  ass,"  as  the  Queen  put  it. 

She  sat  down  on  one  of  the  dingy  chairs  in  the  little 
parlour,  and  calling  her  spaniel,  a  descendant  of  "  Brady 
dog's,"  she  stroked  his  head  gently  and  lovingly,  as  though 
she  found  comfort  in  the  touch  of  his  silky  hair. 

"  I  cannot  think  why  Monsieur  d'Espinay  has  not  been 

2  B 


386  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

here  to-day.     I  had  somewhat  to  say  to  him  about  the 
chesnut  mare,"  she  began. 

"  Perhaps  my  sister's  amiable  manners  have  kept 
him  away ! "  interrupted  Louise  Hollandine.  "  Our  wise 
Sophie  here  has  just  been  talking  of  him  in  so  gentle  a 
way  that  I  was  quite  touched  ! " 

"  Silly  child,"  the  Queen  said  sharply  to  Sophie,  "  what 
can  you  know  of  D'Espinay  ?  " 

"  Princess  Smutty  Face  there  loves  him ! "  retorted 
Sophie  pertly,  pointing  at  Louise  Hollandine. 

"  I  would  have  you  know  that  we  do  not  talk  of  such 
things,  Sophie,"  answered  the  Queen ;  "  think  what  you 
like,  do  what  you  must,  but  try  neither  to  behave  nor  to 
speak  like  a  kitchen-wench." 

"  Monsieur  d'Espinay  ought  to  be  punished  for  his  rude- 
ness to  me ;  I  am  a  grown  maiden  now,  madame  ma  mere, 
and — "  Sophie  began  impetuously. 

"  Ah  !  Sophie,  be  not  so  anxious  to  run  away  from  your 
childhood,"  the  Queen  said  a  little  sadly.  "Nay,"  she 
added,  as  she  saw  the  angry  tears  well  up  in  the  girl's  eyes, 
"  keep  your  tears  until  you  are  wedded ;  you  will  have 
need  of  them  then." 

Louise  Hollandine  came  and  sat  on  the  arm  of  the 
Queen's  chair.  "  Little  mother,  tell  me  if  this  drawing 
is  good  ?  Oh  !  Sophie,  stop  yammering,  or  your  nose  will 
be  as  red  as  sister  Elizabeth's ! " 

"  You  all  talk  too  much  of  Elizabeth's  red  nose ;  she 
is  a  handsome  woman,  and  really  learned,  Rupert  says," 
the  Queen  remarked.  Sophie  turned  away,  and  lifting  a 
corner  of  the  shabby  window  curtain,  peered  out  into  the 
sunlight. 

The  sound  of  spurs  clanking  and  a  swift,  light  tread 
came  from  the  vestibule,  and  after  a  moment  a  lackey 
appeared  at  the  door  announcing  that  Monsieur  d'Espinay 
awaited  her  Majesty  in  the  parlour.  A  flush  rose  to  Louise 
Hollandine's  cheek,  and  she  hastily  smoothed  out  her 
crumpled  lace  collar.  The  Queen  rose. 

"  I  advise  you  to  take  the  charcoal  off  your  face,  ma 
fille,  if  you  are  going  to  see  Monsieur  d'Espinay.  French- 


D'ESPINAY  387 

men  are  particular  about  a  woman's  appearance,"  she  said 
with  one  of  her  whimsical  smiles,  which  robbed  her  shrewd 
sayings  of  any  hint  of  harshness. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  see  Monsieur  d'Espinay,  ma  mere ; 
he  comes  to  see  your  Majesty,  not  me ! "  Louise  answered 
crossly. 

"  Foolish  child ! "  the  Queen  said,  laying  her  strong 
white  hand  on  her  daughter's  shoulder ;  "  and  yet,  ah  ! 
why  should  you  not  be  foolish  while  you  are  young  ?  Life 
teaches  grey  wisdom  soon  enough  ! "  She  sighed  as  she 
left  the  small  parlour.  She  knew  that  Louise  Hollandine 
had  a  fancy  for  D'Espinay,  a  fancy  which  gave  interest  to 
the  dull,  dull  days  at  the  Hague.  It  was  a  mere  caprice, 
of  no  importance ;  Louise  Hollandine's  was  no  deep  nature 
which  would  lead  her  to  the  gates  of  passion  and  despair ; 
she  would  have  a  hundred  light  fancies. 

" '  The  Princess  sighed  for  the  bold  cavalier,  but  he 
would  have  none  of  her,' "  recited  Sophie  in  mock  poetic 
tones. 

"  You  are  an  odious  child  !  "  Louise  broke  out  angrily. 
"  Our  mother  is  right  when  she  says  you  speak  like  a 
kitchen-wench." 

"  Well,  Philip  says  that  all  the  town  prates  of  you  and 
D'Espinay,  my  noble  sister.  And  they  say  more — they  say 
mother  likes  him  overmuch,  and  that  Craven  is  a  sad 
man.  They  say  that  our  mother  may  never  have  put  off 
widow's  weeds  for  our  father,  but  that  she  gives  favours 
to  D'Espinay  which  are  unseemly ;  they  say  " — Sophie 
poured  out  her  silly  gossip  with  all  the  gusto  of  a  young 
maiden  who  does  not  understand  the  hideous  import  of 
her  words.  Louise  Hollandine  turned  on  Sophie  angrily. 

"  Do  you  know  what  you  are  saying,  you  forward  little 
hussy  ?  How  dare  you  speak  of  the  Queen  thus  ?  I 
shall  tell  our  mother  all  you  have  said  ! "  she  cried. 

"  You  may  go  tell  her  what  you  will,  and  I'll  tell  her, 
too,  that  you  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  your  breast 
before  you  pray  each  night !  I'll  tell  her  that  you  are  turn- 
ing Popish,  Louise ;  you  know  what  she  felt  when  Edward 
became  an  idolater ! "  the  girl  answered  shrewishly. 


388  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  You  would  turn  spy,  would  you  ? "  Louise  answered 
haughtily,  but  she  had  grown  pale. 

"  The  two  Princesses  Palatine,  Louise  the  Informer  and 
Sophie  the  Spy  !  "  Sophie  cried  mockingly. 

"  What  a  noise,  why  must  you  talk  so  loud  ? "  came  a 
calm  voice,  and  Princess  Elizabeth  entered  the  parlour,  a 
book  in  her  hand. 

"  Some  talk,  some  read,  for  their  amusement,"  retorted 
Sophie,  ready  as  usual  with  a  pert  answer. 

Louise  took  the  book  from  her  sister's  hand,  " '  Maria 
Stuart/  by  Joost  van  der  Vondel,"  she  read  out,  "  I  marvel 
that  your  erudite  Highness  condescends  to  read  such  light 
literature  !  What  would  Monsieur  Descartes  say  ?  " 

"  Great  literature  is  never  light,  but  light  literature  is 
sometimes  great,"  said  Elizabeth  pedantically,  "  and  this 
fine  tragedy  touches  our  family  history  too  nearly  to  be 
neglected." 

Louise  Hollandine  turned  over  the  pages  mechanically. 
Dutch  wearied  her.  In  vain  Mijnheer  Huijghens,  their 
friend  and  neighbour,  recommended  the  graceful  poems 
of  Tesselschade,  or  waxed  eloquent  over  the  beauty  of 
Barlaeus'  passionate  love  songs,  addressed  to  the  poetess 
Tesselschade  herself.  Louise  Hollandine  said  Dutch  was 
a  nonsense  language,  only  fit  to  talk  in,  but  if  you  wished 
to  read,  then  pray  read  French,  if  you  had  not  got 
an  English  book.  Indeed,  she  scarcely  ever  read,  she 
painted,  and  prattled,  and  laughed  with  gallants.  She 
had  grown  a  little  reckless,  too,  of  late.  It  had  been  gall 
to  her  seeing  her  cousin  and  erstwhile  admirer,  Friedrich 
Wilhelm  of  Brandenburg,  affianced  to  Louise  of  Orange. 
Heaven  knows,  he  was  no  pretty  boy,  this  future  Great 
Elector ;  but  he  was  strong-willed,  strong-brained,  gifted 
with  the  power  of  engraving  his  personality  upon  the  lives 
of  all  who  knew  him,  and  it  would  have  been  a  brilliant 
match  for  the  penniless  Palatine  Princess.  But  his  father, 
George  William,  getting  wind  of  the  youth's  infatuation, 
had  recalled  him  to  Berlin,  and  but  a  few  years  later 
had  arranged  a  marriage  between  him  and  the  well-dowered 
Louise  of  Orange.  George  William  had  ever  played  an 


D'ESPINAY  389 

ugly  role  in  the  life  of  Elizabeth  Stuart,  and  almost 
his  last  act  had  been  to  wreck  her  daughter's  prospects. 

Louise  Hollandine  stood  turning  over  the  leaves  of 
Vondel's  "  Maria  Stuart,"  while  she  listened  to  a  clear, 
rather  aggressive  voice  speaking  with  the  Queen  in  the 
oaken  parlour.  Princess  Elizabeth,  meanwhile,  had  fallen 
into  a  reverie,  and  stood  beside  the  easel  absently  crumb- 
ling a  bit  of  charcoal  between  her  fingers.  Sophie,  sitting 
near  the  window,  still  held  the  fold  of  the  shabby  velvet 
curtain  which  she  had  pulled  aside  to  observe  the  hated 
D'Espinay's  arrival.  A  shaft  of  sunshine  fell  through  this 
opening,  and  lit  Sophie's  mass  of  curling,  auburn  hair 
to  an  aureole.  Her  inquisitive,  round  brown  eyes  now 
scrutinised  Louise  Hollandine,  and  her  full  lips  were 
drawn  into  a  sneering  line. 

A  lackey  came  to  the  door.  "  Her  Majesty  bade  me 
tell  your  Highnesses  that  the  refection  is  served  in  the 
oaken  parlour,"  he  said. 

" '  Now  we  will  arise  and  seek  refreshment  of  fruits 
and  cool  sherbets,  even  though  we  eat  with  the  stranger, 
the  Philistine  ! '  "  Sophie  chanted  mockingly,  "  '  and  the 
Princess  will  hearken  to  his  words,  and  sigh  out  her  love 
at  his  feet ! ' " 

Louise  Hollandine  shot  her  an  angry  glance,  but 
Princess  Elizabeth  laughed.  "  Come,  sisters,"  she  said, 
"  Monsieur  d'Espinay  cannot  frighten  us  away  from  our 
usual  refection  !  Sophie,  be  quiet,  you  tormenting  little 
monster,  and  do  not  enrage  Louise,"  she  whispered,  as 
they  all  three  passed  out  of  the  room. 

In  the  oaken  parlour  a  polished  table  was  set,  where, 
on  silver  dishes — the  few  that  had  not  long  since  gone 
to  the  pawnbroker — heaps  of  peaches  and  raspberries 
were  piled.  A  tall  caraffe  of  sherbet,  another  of  pale 
white  wine,  and  a  little  flagon  of  Hippocras  were  set 
beside  a  silver  dish,  laden  with  those  little  tourtes  a  la 
combalet  for  which  the  late  Queen,  Marie  de  Me*dicis,  had 
given  the  recipe  to  Elizabeth  Stuart  when  she  had  passed 
through  Holland  some  eight  years  since. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  was  seated  near  the  table,  a  silver 


390  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

goblet  of  sherbet  at  her  elbow.  She  was  laughing  as 
the  young  princesses  entered.  Monsieur  le  Comte  de 
1'Espinay,  so  much  disliked  by  Princess  Sophie,  sat  on  a 
low  tabouret  near  her  Majesty.  He  was  a  slim,  graceful 
man  of  thirty-five,  dark-haired  and  olive-skinned,  with 
bold,  laughing  brown  eyes,  and  a  slight,  upturned  mous- 
tache. He  was  elaborately  dressed  in  the  latest  mode : 
a  light  blue  satin  doublet,  slashed  from  the  elbow  nearly 
to  the  shoulder  to  show  the  delicate  linen  under-sleeve  ; 
lace  cuffs,  from  the  wrist  to  a  little  below  middle-arm ; 
a  falling  lace  collar,  jewelled  buttons  fastening  his  tunic, 
his  slender  legs  encased  in  loose  satin  breeches,  and  his 
boots ! — Sophie  cast  a  scornful  look  at  them ;  if  ever  a 
mode  was  devised  to  impede  movement  it  was  this  new- 
fangled footgear  of  soft  leather  boots,  square-toed,  high- 
heeled,  with  the  tops  wrinkled  down  to  just  above  the 
ankle,  the  inside  of  the  tops  broadened  out  to  hold  an 
amplitude  of  lace  frills,  and  over  the  instep  a  wide, 
ornamented  leather  flap,  which  stuck  out  several  inches 
on  each  side  beyond  the  foot.  On  a  chair  near  by  was 
d'Espinay's  felt  hat,  with  the  little  ribbons  falling  from 
the  rosette  beneath  the  feather;  it  was  of  the  latest 
design,  of  course,  with  a  tiny  brim  and  a  very  high 
crown.  Across  the  chair  lay  an  elegant  cane  with  an 
elaborate  gold  head,  ornamented  with  a  bunch  of  blue 
ribbons.  Monsieur  le  Comte's  voluminous  blue  satin 
cloak  was  hung  over  the  back  of  the  chair ;  for,  as  Sophie 
guessed,  D'Espinay  had  not  discarded  it  till  the  Queen 
had  been  granted  the  boon  of  seeing  the  Frenchman 
in  his  complete  new  costume.  His  whole  aspect  was 
immaculately  careless,  a  carefully  arranged  negligence. 

He  rose  as  the  Princesses  entered  and  made  three 
deep  bows,  the  last,  which  was  to  Sophie,  being  so 
profound  as  to  seem  a  mockery. 

"  Que  les  fleurs  de  1'etd  sont  douces ! "  he  said  with 
light  impertinence,  "  to  the  wanderer  in  the  dusty  desert 
of  life,  what  an  oasis  of  coolness  and  beauty  I  have  found  ! " 

"  You  have  noticed  the  coolness  then,  monsieur  ? "  said 
Sophie  sharply. 


D'ESPINAY  391 

"  Your  coolness,  Princess  ! "  he  replied  to  Sophie ; 
"  your  beauty,  Altesses ! "  he  added,  bowing  to  the  other 
Princesses. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  laughed.  "  Poor  little  Sophie  is 
troubled  with  ill- temper  to-day,  D'Espinay.  Give  her 
a  combalet  lemon  cake,  and  then  come  and  talk  to  me." 

Sophie,  with  tears  of  mortification  in  her  eyes,  sub- 
sided into  sullen  silence,  while  the  other  ladies  gathered 
round  the  table.  Louise  Hollandine  gave  the  French- 
man a  little  goblet  filled  with  Hippocras.  "  You  always 
like  this  sweet  syrup  poison  best,"  she  said. 

"  When  you  give  it  to  me,"  he  whispered.  Louise 
looked  at  her  mother  quickly,  half-hoping,  half-fearing 
that  she  had  heard  the  whispered  words.  The  Queen 
was  feeding  her  spaniel  with  crumbs  of  the  combalet 
cake,  and  paid  no  heed ;  but  Louise's  face  fell  when  she 
saw  the  expression  of  D'Espinay 's  eyes  as  he  watched  the 
Queen. 

"  What  news  out  of  France,  D'Espinay  ? "  the  Queen 
asked. 

"  Ce  singe  Mazarin !  they  only  write  of  him  in  my 
letters ;  he  is  for  ever  with  the  Queen  they  say,  and 
his  niece  is  the  little  King's  playmate.  Truly  an  Italian 
plague ! "  he  answered.  D'Espinay  always  affected  an 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  doings  at  the  French  Court, 
though  in  reality  he  knew  but  little  thereof.  He  had 
played  a  foolish  part  enough  in  France  before  he  came 
to  Holland.  Monsieur,  brother  of  Louis  XIII.  and  father 
of  la  grande  Mademoiselle,  had  a  court  of  love  hidden 
away  at  one  of  his  castles  near  Tours.  Here  a  certain 
Louise  de  la  Marbiliere  ruled,  as  queen  of  Gaston 
d'Orleans'  heart,  and  many  gallants  from  Paris  came 
hither  to  enliven  the  Marbiliere.  Now  d'Espinay  in- 
sinuated himself,  if  not  into  the  lady's  affections,  at  least 
into  her  confidence.  He  was  essentially  a  man  women 
liked  to  see  and  talk  with ;  he  was  diverting,  and  under- 
stood how  to  discuss  women's  clothes.  He  could  dance 
"  like  an  angel,"  the  Marbiliere  declared,  though  it 
seems  unlikely  that  she  was  sufficiently  acquainted  with 


392  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

the  terpsichorean  prowess  of  the  seraphim  to  have  been 
competent   thus   to    appraise    D'Espinay's   performance. 
D'Espinay  could  talk  of  sentimental  depths  which  ladies 
believed  to    be   philosophical  thought ;    D'Espinay   was 
deliciously  indiscreet  under  the  seal  of  secrecy ;  D'Espinay, 
in  fact,  was  a  man  whom  older  women  liked,  a  man 
with  whom  very  young  girls  believed  themselves  to  be 
enamoured.     Gaston  d'Orleans,  however,  had  found  his 
whispering  with  the  Marbiliere  to  be  too  familiar,  and  a 
lettre-de-cachet  for  "  le  petit  D'Espinay  "  had  directed  his 
unwilling,  high-heeled  feet  to  the  unperfumed,  painfully 
inelegant   Bastille.      Here   he  had  remained  for  a  few 
months,  and  then  a  very  well  arranged  amourette  with  a 
turnkey's  daughter  had  enabled  him  to  escape.     Really 
it  was  by  this  time  of  no  importance  to  Gaston  d'Orleans, 
or  any  one  else,  whether  he  escaped  or  not ;  but  D'Espinay 
arrived   at   the   Hague   with   a   fine   story   of  his   hair- 
breadth escape,  and  of  the  consternation  with  which  it 
had  filled  his  gaolers.     The  rest  of  the  history,  concern- 
ing the  Marbiliere  and  the  turnkey's  daughter,  he  told 
in   confidence   to    several  Dutch   gentlemen,   instead  of 
publishing  it  in  the  Gazette  de  France,  and  in  a  few  days 
the  Hague  knew  all  he  had  said — with  several  picturesque 
Rabelesian  details  added.     In  Paris  D'Espinay  would  have 
been  one  of  a  crowd  of  petits  messieurs ;  in  the  Hague 
he  was  a  personage  of  note.     For  his  part  he  thought 
the  Hague  provincial — or  said  in  confidence  that  he  did 
— which   impressed   and   angered   the   Haguers.      Each 
Hague  lady  consoled  him,  and  incidentally  told  him  how 
she  could  really  find  no  lace   collars,  no  shoe  roses,  no 
modish  hats  or  gowns  in  Holland.     Alack  !  she  had  to  wait 
to  purchase  such  things  from  the  itinerant  French  mer- 
chants !     He  affected  to  believe  that  these  ladies  really 
could  not  wear  a  Dutch-made  garment;  it  seemed  he 
had  never  seen  the  Amsterdam  furriers,  mantle-makers, 
seamstresses  entering  the  portals  of  the  ladies'  mansions ; 
which  was  curious,  as  his  eyes,  so  languishingly  indiscreet 
in  their  habitual  wanderings,  were  not  prone  to  fail  him. 
And  D'Espinay  told  each  delighted  Dutch  mevrouw  how 


D'ESPINAY  393 

much  more  elegant  she  was  than  the  Duchesse  de  Longue- 
ville ;  and  as  for  Madame  de  Chevreuse,  she  could  not 
even  vie  with  mevrouw !  "  Ninon  de  1'Enclos,  how  is 
she  ?  "  they  would  query.  "  Ah  !  I  never  cared  for 
prostitutes,  mevrouw !  I  find  the  ladies  of  the  Court 
sufficient ! "  he  would  answer ;  and  the  good  dames 
preened  themselves  at  this,  not  hearing  the  insolence 
under  the  flattery. 

But  amid  all  his  vapid  egoism  one  deeper  feeling  had 
sprung  up,  and  that  was  a  blind  worship  for  the  Queen  of 
Bohemia,  despite  her  fifty  years.  She  treated  him  with 
easy  kindness.  If  he  paid  her  one  of  his  too  outspoken 
compliments  she  answered  him  with  a  shrewd,  humorous 
jest ;  she  often  told  him  bluntly  that  he  was  a  fool  for  his 
pains ;  yet  she  suffered  him  to  be  much  in  her  company 
for  the  simple  reason  that  he  amused  her,  and  seeing 
through  his  gay,  insolent,  ceremonious  manners,  she  had 
found  him  a  kind-hearted  fellow  enough.  One  day, 
chancing  to  ask  him  of  his  youth  in  France,  she  had 
seen  the  tears  spring  to  his  eyes  when  he  had  spoken  of 
his  mother. 

"  Ah,  madarne,  it  is  terrible  that  I  cannot  go  to  pray 
on  her  grave,"  he  said ;  adding :  "  Ne  vous  moquez  pas  de 
moi,  madame." 

Elizabeth  Stuart  had  understood  that  this  foppish, 
effeminate  braggart  had  a  real  Frenchman's  devotion 
to  his  mother,  that  devotion  which  is  so  often  an  effemi- 
nate man's  one  strong  feeling. 

"  Poor  D'Espinay  !  "  she  had  said  gently,  and  had  laid 
her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  "pray  God  for  your  mother. 
He  will  hear  you  even  if  you  cannot  kneel  at  her  grave." 
(Merciful  heavens !  if  the  Puritans  could  have  heard 
"  God's  own  handmaiden  "  recommending  prayers  for  the 
dead ! )  From  that  day  D'Espinay  had  vowed  her  an 
ardent  service  which  had  given  the  Haguers  that  manna 
of  the  mind  which  they  loved  so — food  for  scandal. 

Louise  Hollandine  had  a  fancy  for  D'Espinay,  and  he 
amused  himself  with  a  light  intrigue  with  her,  just  a  few 
whispered  words,  sometimes  a  billet-doux;  his  touch 


394  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

lingered  a  little  on  her  hand  when  they  danced  the  pavyn 
or  he  taught  her  the  figures  of  the  gavotte,  that  new  dance 
which  was  beginning  to  be  the  mode  at  the  Court  of 
France.  She  was  young  and  attractive  :  she  liked  him — 
and  she  resembled  Elizabeth  Stuart. 

That  June  day  as  the  Queen  and  her  daughters  sat 
there  in  the  oaken  parlour,  it  seemed  to  D'Espinay  that 
Destiny  had  been  good  to  him  after  all ;  the  Hague  was 
dull — "  Ah !  a  mourir  jeune,"  as  he  said — but  all  things 
were  bearable,  if  it  was  possible  to  see  Elizabeth  Stuart 
each  day,  as  he  did  now,  for  since  her  English  Master  of 
the  Horse,  Howard,  had  killed  a  gentleman  in  a  duel  and 
had  been  forced  to  fly  the  country,  D'Espinay  had  been 
named  Master  of  the  Horse  to  the  Queen  of  Bohemia. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  "  I  hear  there  are  fine  stories  in 
Paris  about  the  Queen  and  Mazarin.  Ah,  bonjour, 
Altesse !  bonjour,  my  Lord  of  Craven ! "  he  added,  as 
Prince  Philip  and  Craven  entered  the  parlour. 

Craven  spoke  to  D'Espinay  in  his  friendly,  quiet  way, 
but  Philip  ignored  his  greeting.  The  boy's  face  was 
flushed,  and  on  his  brow  the  brown  hair  lay  in  damp 
curls ;  a  tall,  strong  lad,  but  rather  lumpy,  with  a  thick- 
set figure  like  his  grandfather,  James  I.  of  England,  but 
here  the  resemblance  ended,  for  Philip  had  a  swarthy  face, 
round,  dark  eyes,  and  a  heavy,  lowering  look.  His  grey 
cloth  riding-jerkin  was  dusty  and  untidy,  his  turndown 
linen  collar  was  crumpled,  and  his  riding-boots  were  white 
with  dust.  The  Queen  looked  at  him  coldly.  She  had 
never  cared  for  Philip,  and  his  rough  ways  and  fierce 
temper  had  often  disturbed  and  alarmed  her  for  his  future. 

"  Philip,  you  are  covered  with  dust ;  can  you  not  come 
to  me  in  a  more  seemly  fashion  ? "  she  said. 

The  boy's  face  grew  scarlet.  "  I  am  no  fine  lady  in 
breeches,  madame,"  he  said  sullenly,  casting  a  sidelong 
look  of  hatred  at  D'Espinay. 

"You  will  do  me  the  favour  to  brush  your  clothes 
before  you  drink  your  sherbet,"  the  Queen  answered,  as 
though  speaking  to  a  naughty  child.  "  Go  now,  my  son," 
she  added  quietly,  seeing  Philip  did  not  move. 


D'ESPINAY  395 

He  put  out  his  hand  to  take  his  tankard  of  sherbet. 

"  Nay  ! "  the  Queen  cried  laughingly,  "  not  a  drop,  my 
son,  until  you  are  brushed  3 "  She  took  the  tankard  from 
his  hand.  "  Go  now  ! "  she  commanded. 

Philip  turned  on  his  heel.  D'Espinay,  who  stood  in 
his  way,  moved  aside,  but  Philip  purposely  pushed  against 
him  roughly,  leaving  a  deal  of  dust  on  the  arm  of  the 
Frenchman's  delicate  satin  doublet.  D'Espinay  brushed 
it  off  angrily,  but  said  nothing. 

Now  Princess  Henriette,  entering  the  parlour,  met  Philip 
at  the  door.  "  Whither  away  so  fast,  Phil  ? "  she  said. 

"  To  make  myself  fit  to  associate  with  overdressed  cox- 
combs ! "  he  answered  loudly ;  and  passed  out  of  the  room. 

For  a  moment  silence  reigned,  and  the  sisters  looked  at 
one  another  in  consternation.  It  was  no  light  thing  to 
offend  the  Queen;  she  could  be  stern  enough  once  she 
was  roused. 

D'Espinay  came  to  the  rescue.  "  The  building  at  the 
Palace  in  the  Wood  goes  apace,  madame.  'Tis  but  a  few 
months  since  your  Majesty  laid  the  first  stone,  and  already 
the  outer  walls  are  nigh  finished,"  he  said.  The  talk 
drifted  to  other  channels.  Amalia  Solms  was,  as  usual, 
on  no  very  friendly  terms  with  her  daughter-in-law,  the 
Princess  Royal  of  England,  and  d'Espinay  told  the  Queen 
how  the  French  Minister,  de  Thou,  who  had  just  been  to 
Honsholredijk,  had  returned  with  a  story  of  how  high 
words  had  passed  between  the  ladies  even  in  his  presence. 

"  My  poor  niece,  alas  !  she  is  learning  life's  harshness 
soon !  But  the  young  ever  gain  the  victory  ;  they  have  the 
weapon  Time  wherewith  to  conquer  the  older  generation. 
But  'tis  cruel  of  her  Highness  Amalia  to  harry  the  child 
just  now  when  she  is  so  beset  with  fears  for  her  father. 
Things  are  not  going  well  in  England,  alas ! "  the  Queen 
said. 

They  talked  on  peacefully,  Louise  Hollandine  gazing 
at  D'Espinay  the  while,  and  the  other  sisters  laughing 
and  talking  together. 

At  length  D'Espinay  rose  to  take  his  leave. 

"  Come  to-morrow  at  this  hour,  monsieur,  and  tell  me 


396  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

how  de  Thou  found  the  Stadtholder.  Alas  !  I  fear  his 
Highness  will  ne'er  see  another  summer,"  the  Queen  said 
as  he  kissed  her  hand. 

In  the  cool,  lofty  vestibule  D'Espinay  paused  a  moment 
to  arrange  the  folds  of  his  satin  cloak.  When  he  ap- 
proached the  house-door  he  saw  Prince  Philip  standing 
with  his  back  against  it  D'Espinay  scanned  him  with 
an  insolent  smile. 

"  Has  your  Highness  turned  sentinel  ? "  he  asked 
mockingly. 

The  boy  caught  him  by  the  cloak,  and  half-dragged 
him  into  the  little  parlour  near  the  door. 

"  I  have  to  speak  with  you,  my  Lord  Count ! "  he  said 
as  he  closed  and  bolted  the  door. 

"  It  is  a  strange  way  of  asking  for  an  interview, 
monseigneur  !  "  the  Frenchman  replied. 

"  You  will  come  here  no  more,  monsieur ;  do  you 
hear  ?  I  know  what  is  said  in  the  town !  They  prattle 
of  you  and  of  my  sister — worse  still,  of  you  and  of  my 
mother !  You  will  come  here  no  more ! "  Philip  said 
fiercely. 

"  Since  when  do  you  give  orders  in  her  Majesty's 
house,  mon  petit  Prince  ?  "  said  D'Espinay,  growing  very 
pale.  "  I  shall  obey  her  Majesty's  commands  and  wait 
upon  her  when  she  wills  it." 

"  My  brothers  are  away ;  my  mother's  honour  is  in  my 
care  !  You  will  come  here  no  more  !  "  the  boy  cried. 

"  Bah  !  monseigneur,  the  heat  has  turned  your  head  ! " 
said  D'Espinay  scornfully. 

"  I  tell  you  that,  if  you  come  here  again,  I  will  kill 
you,  you  sneaking  French  loon ! "  Philip  muttered 
between  his  teeth. 

"  Take  back  your  words,  or  even  from  your  mother's 
son  I  must  ask  satisfaction,"  cried  D'Espinay. 

"  Even  from  my  mother's  son  !  What  is  my  mother 
to  you  ?  "  Philip  said  wildly. 

"  Your  mother  is  the  Queen  of  my  Heart !  "  D'Espinay 
answered. 

"  You  dare  tell  me  that  ?      What  they  say  is  true,  then  I 


D'ESPINAY  397 

God  !  my  mother  the  mistress  of  a  French  renegade ! " 
the  Prince  said  in  a  hoarse  voice. 

D'Espinay  started.  "  How  dare  you  twist  my  words  so  ? 
Monseigneur,  I  demand  satisfaction !  In  an  hour's  time, 
near  the  new  House  in  the  Bosch — monseigneur,  I  shall 
have  the  honour  of  defending  your  mother's  good  name 
from  her  own  son's  foul  insinuations  !  "  He  turned  away, 
unbolted  the  door,  and  passed  into  the  corridor.  Craven 
was  coming  along  from  the  oaken  parlour,  but  neither 
Philip  nor  D'Espinay  saw  him. 

"  In  an  hour  I  will  meet  you,  monseigneur,  near  the 
House  in  the  Wood  !  Or  shall  I  send  my  seconds  to 
you  ?  "  D'Espinay  said. 

"  We  need  no  seconds  to  arrange  our  duel ;  sir,  are  you 
trying  to  draw  back  ?  "  said  Philip. 

"  In  an  hour,  et  a  la  mort !  "  answered  the  Frenchman 
furiously. 

The  following  morning  a  group  of  young  men  stood 
beneath  the  trees  on  the  Vijverberg :  Emanuel  of  Portugal, 
Pellnitz,  Ferdinand  Brederode,  a  few  beardless,  diplomatic 
secretaries,  the  youthful  Constantine  Huijghens,  son  to  the 
poet,  and  several  English  youths,  visitors  at  the  Hague. 
In  their  midst  stood  Prince  Philip.  He  was  speaking  in 
loud,  excited  tones. 

"  Some  interfering  fool  had  sent  the  town-guard  ;  is  that 
what  they  say  ?  My  Lord  of  Craven  was  it  ?  I'll  dare 
swear  he'll  take  the  blame  to  save  a  pother !  But  it  was 
D'Espinay  himself,  I  tell  you ! "  he  vociferated. 

"  No  cavalier  could  do  such  a  thing,  monseigneur ! 
He  is  of  good  blood  after  all,"  said  a  young  Dutchman. 

"  I  tell  you  he  had  warned  the  town-guard ! "  cried 
Philip.  "  Emanuel,  you  thought  so,  and  you,  too,  Pellnitz  ! 
None  knew  we  were  to  fight.  Craven  did  not  know  it, 
so  how  could  he  have  sent  the  guard  ?  Only  D'Espinay 
and  his  seconds  knew  ;  they  came  with  him  directly,  they 
could  not  have  told  any  one.  Why,  the  town-guard  came 
close  on  D'Espinay's  heels " 

"  I  should  kill  him  like  a  frightened  cur,  if  he  behaves 


398  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

like  one,"  cried  the  youngest  of  the  group,  wishful  to  show 
what  a  manly  fire-eater  he  was. 

Philip  turned  to  him.  "You  are  right,"  he  said 
slowly. 

At  this  moment  half-a-dozen  finely  dressed  gentlemen 
sauntered  down  the  broad  walk  of  the  Vijverberg.  In 
their  midst  was  D'Espinay,  laughing  and  talking.  Philip 
watched  him  approach;  then  feeling  the  expectant  gaze 
of  his  admiring  companions  upon  him,  he  drew  himself 
up  and  stepped  forward. 

"  Monsieur  le  Comte  d'Espinay  !  "  he  said,  "  the  timely 
interruption  of  our  meeting  yesterday  does  not  annul  my 
interdict.  I  pray  you  remember ! " 

D'Espinay  laughed.  "  We  will  speak  of  this  with  her 
Majesty,  your  mother,  this  afternoon,  mon  Prince ! "  he 
said  lightly,  and  passed  on,  leaving  Prince  Philip  with 
lowering  brow  and  twitching  lips. 

The  group  on  the  Vijverberg  dispersed.  Philip, 
Emanuel  of  Portugal,  and  Pellnitz  walked  away  together. 

That  afternoon  was  heavy  and  airless,  no  breeze  stirred 
the  trees  on  the  Kneuterdijk,  and  the  limes  before  the 
Queen's  house  were  as  still  as  though  they  had  been 
wooden  playthings.  Despite  the  heat,  Elizabeth  Stuart 
and  the  Princesses  had  driven  to  Scheveningen. 

"  I'll  sit  here  no  longer,  mewed  up  like  an  old  dame," 
the  Queen  had  cried. 

The  whole  town  seemed  deserted — asleep  in  the  sultry 
air.  About  three  of  the  clock  D'Espinay  was  seen  pro- 
ceeding down  the  narrow  Hartogstraat  from  his  dwelling 
in  the  Papestraat.  He  was  gaily  attired,  and  in  the 
summer  sunshine  he  looked  like  some  flower  prince  out 
of  a  fairy  masque,  with  his  rose-satin  cloak,  his  ivory- 
coloured  tunic,  and  the  wrinkled  soft  boots  with  the  falling 
lace  frills.  Monsieur  le  Comte  d'Espinay  was  going  to 
bestow  his  beauteous  presence  upon  the  French  minister, 
and  then  later  he  would  visit  her  Majesty  of  Bohemia. 
He  tripped  onward,  humming  a  gay  little  tune  between 
his  teeth : — 


D'ESPINAY  399 

"  Mourir  pour  ma  belle, 

Tra-la-la  ! 

Mieux  vant  vivre  pour  elle, 
La !  la !  la !  " 

As  he  crossed  the  broad  road  of  the  Kneuterdijk  he 
glanced  at  the  windows  of  the  Queen's  house,  which, 
standing  at  the  end  of  the  Voorhout,  commanded  a  full 
view  of  the  Kneuterdijk.  All  the  curtains  were  drawn 
to  shut  out  the  sun,  but  D'Espinay  fancied  he  saw  the 
curtain  of  the  small  parlour-window  move,  as  though 
touched  by  the  hand  of  some  one  watching.  Princess 
Louise  Hollandine,  perhaps  ?  D'Espinay  paused.  Should 
he  go  in  for  a  few  moments  and  steal  a  kiss  from  the 
enamoured  maiden  ?  Her  lips  were  soft  and  fresh,  and 
if  you  may  not  pluck  the  rose,  is  it  not  wise  to  enjoy  the 
bud's  fragrance  ? 

"  Mourir  pour  ma  belle, 
Tra-la-la ! " 

No,  he  must  no  longer  play  with  the  poor  little  lady's 
heart — it  was  unworthy  of  him ;  he  who  loved  the  Queen 
could  not — .  He  tripped  on  and  entered  the  cool 
precincts  of  the  French  Legation. 

In  the  Queen's  house  the  curtain  over  the  small  parlour- 
window  was  pushed  aside,  and  Prince  Philip's  dark  face 
appeared  in  the  opening,  over  his  shoulders  peeped 
Emanuel  of  Portugal  and  Pellnitz.  They  whispered 
together,  and  Philip  pointed  towards  the  Heulstraatje 
and  to  the  Hartogstraat.  Then  the  curtain  was  closed 
once  more,  and  the  slumberous  calm  of  the  Kneuterdijk 
was  undisturbed. 

Monsieur  d'Espinay  was  annoyed.  Really  he  who  spares 
his  head  must  use  his  legs !  He  had  forgotten  to  bring 
the  latest  number  of  the  Gazette  de  France,  in  which  there 
was  an  account  of  the  oration  held  at  Stockholm  on 
Oxenstierna's  elevation  to  the  rank  of  Count  by  that 
wonder  of  learning,  Queen  Christina.  D'Espinay  had 
promised  to  show  the  Gazette  to  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  for 
of  course  the  two  prodigies  of  wisdom  were  of  interest  to 


400  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

each  other.  D'Espinay,  like  King  James,  disapproved  of 
learned  maidens ;  but  it  was  his  habit  to  be  eager  in  his 
service  even  of  erudite  ladies. 

"  Mourir  pour  ma  belle, 
Tra-la-la," 

he  hummed ;  how  that  silly  little  melody  pursued  him 
to-day !  He  took  his  plumed  hat  and  beribboned  cane 
from  the  French  minister's  lackey,  and  stood,  for  a 
moment,  on  the  Legation  steps,  blinking  at  the  haze  of 
sunshine  which  dazzled  his  eyes  after  the  discreet  light 
of  Monsieur  de  Thou's  writing-room.  Should  he  send 
the  lackey  to  fetch  the  Gazette  from  the  Papestraat  ?  No, 
his  blue-satin  cloak  was  lying  over  his  parlour-chair  ;  the 
fellow  might  smudge  it  with  his  hot  hand  ;  D'Espinay 
would  go  himself.  He  flung  a  silver  piece  to  the 
lackey,  and  went  down  the  shallow  steps  conscious  of 
his  munificence. 

"  Mourir  pour  ma  belle, 
Tra-la-la," 

he  hummed.  He  was  looking  at  the  lace  frills  of  his 
boot-tops — how  he  hoped  they  would  not  get  dusty  before 
he  arrived  at  her  Majesty's  house.  Pardieu  !  why  had 
he  forgotten  the  Gazette  ?  Busy  with  his  thoughts,  he 
directed  his  elegant  steps  to  the  Heulstraatje;  it  smelled 
less  vile  than  the  Hartogstraat,  he  reflected. 

"  What  a  pity  the  town-guard  is  not  here,  Monsieur 
le  Lache  ! "  A  mocking  voice  interrupted  his  reverie. 

D'Espinay  started  violently.  Pellnitz  stood  before  him, 
blocking  the  entrance  to  the  Heulstraatje. 

"  Monsieur,  the  pleasantry  is  offensive  !  "  he  answered 
boldly,  but  drew  back  when  he  saw  that  Pellnitz  held 
a  bare  rapier  in  his  hand. 

"  Que  diable ! "  he  cried,  and  clutched  beneath  the 
folds  of  his  satin  cloak.  "  Que  diable ! "  he  repeated 
more  faintly  when  he  felt  that  he  had  no  sword  at  his 
side — it  was  not  the  mode  with  that  style  of  doublet. 

"  The  pleasantry  is  ill-timed,  monsieur,  let  me  pass," 
he  said  waveringly.  Pellnitz  glanced  past  D'Espinay ; 


D'ESPINAY  401 

Prince  Philip  and  Emanuel  of  Portugal  were  running 
down  the  Kneuterdijk  to  the  Hartogstraat. 

"You  will  not  pass  this  way,  sir,"  Pellnitz  said,  and 
pricked  the  Frenchman's  boot-frill  with  his  rapier's  point. 

"  There  are  other  ways,"  D'Espinay  said  with  affected 
carelessness.  He  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  down  the 
Kneuterdijk.  When  he  saw  that  the  Hartogstraat  was 
empty  he  breathed  freer,  though  he  was  haunted  by  the 
sound  of  running.  He  paused ;  should  he  go  back  to 
the  Legation  ?  Bah  !  he  would  look  like  a  poltroon  before 
the  lackeys !  He  went  on  up  the  Hartogstraat.  Un- 
molested he  reached  the  Hoogstraat ;  here  a  number  of 
burgher's  wives  and  busy  people  hurried  along  despite 
the  heat.  D'Espinay  took  his  lace  kerchief  from  his 
doublet  and  wiped  his  face.  It  was,  of  course,  the  heat 
which  had  brought  those  drops  of  sweat  to  his  brow.  He 
strolled  on  a  few  paces. 

"  Tudieu ! "  he  muttered,  for  at  the  entrance  to  the 
Papestraat  stood  Pellnitz  with  drawn  sword.  "  Monsieur, 
this  is  childish,  let  me  pass  ! "  he  cried.  "  The  pleasantry 
goes  too  far ;  let  me  pass,  I  say  ! " 

"  It  is  no  pleasantry,"  cried  a  voice  behind  him ; 
"  cowards  are  killed  like  rats  ! " 

D'Espinay  faced  round  quickly.  "  Monseigneur !  "  he 
faltered.  Philip  stood  there  with  Emanuel  of  Braganza 
beside  him ;  both  youths  carried  bared  rapiers. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  The  passers  by  halted ; 
the  women  huddled  together ;  one  young  maiden  screamed. 

"  Where  is  the  town-guard  ?  "  called  a  portly  burgher. 
Philip  gave  a  rough  laugh. 

"  Monsieur  d'Espinay  knows  that  best ! "  he  shouted, 
and  pricked  the  Frenchman  in  the  shoulder  with  his 
rapier. 

"  I  am  unarmed  —  monseigneur  —  I  cannot  —  "  he 
cried  shrilly.  Philip  lunged  at  him ;  but  D'Espinay 
avoided  the  sword's  point,  and,  turning,  fled  wildly  down 
the  Hoogstraat. 

"  Mourir  pour  ma  belle, 
Tra-la-la." 

2  C 


402  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

The  light  melody  still  sang  in  his  brain — .  On  he 
dashed ;  a  child  toddled  out  of  a  house-door ;  he  knocked 
it  over  and  it  raised  a  piercing  yell.  Once  he  stumbled 
— "  Holy  Mary  !  help  me  ! "  he  gasped.  The  frill  of  his 
boot-top  was  torn,  and  a  long  jagged  string  of  lace  nearly 
tripped  him  up.  They  were  close  behind  him.  He  ran 
faster,  but  he  heard  them  gaining  on  him.  Quickly  he 
remembered  that  a  little  seamstress,  who  was  over-fond 
of  him,  lived  in  a  common  lodging-house  in  the  Hal- 
straatje — the  door  leading  up  those  public  stairs  always 
stood  ajar — if  he  could  get  there — he  could  shut  out  his 
pursuers.  Madness  !  they  could  not  mean  to  kill  him  ! 
He  half  paused  and  glanced  back ;  the  three  young  men 
were  almost  on  his  heels ;  Philip's  face  was  set — it  was 
no  pleasantry  then  ? 

"  Mourir  pour  ma  belle, 
Tra-la-la." 

He  sped  on — ah !  the  Golden  Head  Tavern — he  might 
find  a  refuge  there  !  No,  the  door  was  shut.  He  felt 
as  if  the  blood  must  rush  out  of  his  eyes — he  was  blinded 
— gasping — spent.  He  made  a  rush  towards  the  Hal- 
straatje.  What  was  that  ?  He  sliddered — twisted  his 
foot — fell  prone  over  a  strong-smelling  heap  of  empty 
oyster-shells  which  lay  before  the  tavern.  Bah  !  why  must 
they  fling  out  the  oyster-shells  after  a  supper  ? — it  was 
too  hot  to  eat  oysters — there  must  have  been  a  supper 
last  night — .  "  Sainte  Vierge — Mere  de  Dieu  !  Ah  ! " 

Philip  fell  upon  hirn.  Once — twice — thrice  he  plunged 
his  rapier  through  the  ivory-satin  doublet. 

Weakly  D'Espinay  twisted  himself  round  to  face  his 
murderer.  "  Vous  avez  tort,  monseigneur,  e"pargnez 
moi ! "  he  gasped. 

For  answer  Philip  plunged  his  rapier  through  his  heart, 
drew  it  out,  and  plunged  it  in  again  mercilessly. 

"  Mourir  pour  ma  belle, 
Tra-la " 

The  blood  gushed  out  of  D'Espinay 's  mouth,  and  he 
lay  still. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

HOME 

"  We  are  the  masters  of  the  days  that  were. 
We  have  lived,  we  have  loved,  we  have  suffered." 

— W.  E.  HENLEY. 

A  SHIP  rode  at  anchor  on  the  river  Thames  beyond 
Gravesend.  The  fields  stretching  down  to  the 
banks  were  whitened  by  the  daisies  and  the  tall 
cow-parsley,  and  touched  with  gold  by  the  buttercups. 
Such  a  peace  lay  over  the  country,  such  a  fragrancy  of 
Spring.  The  birds  flitted  through  the  air,  twittering 
sharply,  and  ever  and  anon  came  a  lazy,  ponderous  flap- 
ping as  a  gull,  returning  from  some  inland  quest,  winged 
its  way  back  to  the  sea.  The  water  lapped  against  the 
ship's  sides  indolently,  though  often  the  passing  of  another 
vessel  made  the  anchored  ship  to  rock,  and  strain  rest- 
lessly at  the  powerful  cable  which  held  her  quiescent,  and 
then  for  a  time  the  water  eddied  and  swirled  as  though 
boisterously  inviting  the  ship  to  follow  the  stream  out  to 
the  sea  once  more. 

At  the  ship's  stern  there  fluttered  in  the  light  breeze 
a  royal  ensign  of  sky  blue  with  a  lion  rampant  em- 
blazoned, an  unknown  flag  which  mightily  puzzled  the 
mariners  on  the  passing  ships.  However,  the  merchant- 
men, seeing  that  the  stranger  also  flew  the  colours  of  the 
Dutch  Republic  at  her  masthead,  gave  the  accustomed 
salute  of  courtesy  and  passed  on,  wondering  what  the  sky 
blue  ensign  could  be. 

On  the  deck  stood  the  tall,  black-robed  figure  of  an 
ageing  woman ;  a  woman  whose  auburn  hair  was  thickly 
streaked  with  white,  and  whose  face  was  lined  with  the 
ineffaceable  imprint  of  the  touch  of  sorrow ;  yet  despite 

403 


404  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

the  pathos  of  the  face,  the  brave  set  of  the  firm  lips  and 
the  fearless  gaze  of  the  brown  eyes  told  of  an  undaunted 
spirit.  There  was,  too,  an  indomitable,  if  unconscious, 
pride  in  the  poise  of  the  head.  Though  she  waited  there, 
a  solitary,  patient  figure,  there  was  something  in  her  whole 
attitude  which  said :  "  I,  Elizabeth  Stuart,  cannot  be 
brought  under  fortune,  save  by  owning  misfortune.  What- 
e'er  befalls,  I  am  ready  !  No  one  can  humble  me,  though 
they  may  insult  me." 

Hour  after  hour  she  waited  there,  her  great  brown  eyes 
fixed  on  the  shore.  Though  no  one  welcomed  her,  yet 
she  saw  England  again,  England  which  she  had  left  nearly 
fifty  years  ago,  when  youth  and  fortune  smiled  !  It  had 
been  Spring  then,  too,  she  remembered,  but  a  spring  of 
wild  rains,  and  angry  tempests.  She  had  been  driven 
back  to  the  coast,  and  men  had  said  it  was  of  evil  augury 
for  a  bride  to  be  thus  flung  back  to  her  home,  but  the 
cannon  had  boomed  salutes  as  she  sailed  away,  and  the 
populace  had  thundered  a  grand  farewell  to  the  Pearl  of 
England.  And  now  it  was  Spring  again,  Spring  and 
England,  and  all  the  world  was  unchanged,  was  young,  only 
she  was  old  and  sad,  and  an  unwelcome  guest  it  seemed. 

At  Delftshaven  a  messenger  from  King  Charles  II.  had 
met  her,  and  had  bidden  her  relinquish  her  voyage  to 
England ;  but  she  had  thrown  back  her  head  with  her  old, 
proud  gesture,  and  had  cried  out :  "  My  nephew  cannot 
forbid  me  to  go  home  ! "  Home  !  was  England  her  home 
after  all  ?  She,  the  wanderer — she,  the  exile — had  she  a 
home  ?  And  yet  unfailingly  she  belonged  to  the  land ; 
the  long  years  had  robbed  her  of  joy  and  of  splendour,  of 
love  and  of  honour,  but  no  one  could  take  from  her  her 
right  to  England.  She  had  raged  for  a  moment  when 
King  Charles'  envoy  had  delivered  the  ungracious  mes- 
sage. How  dared  he  use  her  thus  ?  When  he  had  been 
a  homeless  exile,  a  penniless  King  in  a  foreign  land,  had 
she  not  welcomed  him  as  though  he  had  been  doubly 
crowned  ?  Had  she  not  told  Amalia  of  Orange,  when  this 
lady  had  asked  why  she  had  bent  in  so  deep  an  obeisance 
before  her  own  kinsman :  "  He  is  twice  a  King,  because 


HOME  405 

he  is  crowned  with  misfortune  ! "  To  her  the  brown-faced 
youth  of  evil  life,  threadbare  in  garment,  a  little  thread- 
bare in  honour,  was  no  less  the  heir  of  that  kingship  by 
divine  right,  the  very  name  of  which  the  world  deemed 
to  have  perished  with  King  Charles  I.  beneath  the 
traitor's  axe. 

She  could  never  have  believed  that  her  nephew  could 
have  ignored  her  thus.  She  had  sent  a  frigate  on  before 
her  with  a  messenger,  to  inform  his  Majesty  of  her  arrival, 
and  she  had  bidden  the  Dutch  captain  to  anchor  her  ship. 
She  would  give  King  Charles  time  to  prepare  a  fitting 
reception,  and  if  he  did  not  heed  her,  at  least,  she  would 
sail  up  the  river  at  night-time.  No  one  should  see  her 
land,  ungreeted  and  unhonoured  ! 

"  It  is  a  good  sailing  breeze,  is  it,  Mijnheer  ?  You  would 
not  waste  it  ?  Why  should  there  not  be  a  breeze  to-night, 
when  I  wish  to  sail  ?  We  will  take  our  chance,  Mijnheer." 
Ah !  Elizabeth  Stuart,  you  are,  "  as  ever  of  your  wild 
humour  "  to  be  hopeful,  even  yet,  in  spite  of  the  heavy 
years ! 

"  Madam,  I  pray  you  rest  awhile ;  there  comes  no 
messenger  from  the  King ;  do  not  watch  longer,"  said  a 
voice  near  her. 

"  It  is  not  altogether  for  a  messenger  that  I  wait, 
Craven,"  she  said ;  "  but  my  heart  is  very  full  when  I  look 
on  England  again.  Let  me  be  ;  I  am  an  old  woman,  but 
I  have  come  home  at  last ! " 

He  took  her  hand,  so  white  against  the  brown  wood  of 
the  bulwark  where  it  lay.  Very  gently  he  raised  it  to 
his  lips.  "  I  knew  not  that  you  had  thus  hungered  for 
the  homeland,  madam,"  he  said. 

"  Nay,"  she  answered,  "  I  knew  it  not  myself.  I  am 
no  harbourer  of  useless  thoughts." 

They  fell  a-talking  of  other  things — of  how  Princess 
Elizabeth  was  happy  in  her  Protestant  Abbey  of  Her- 
worden,  of  Princess  Sophie  married  in  Hanover,  of  Prin- 
cess Louise  Hollandine,  Abbess  of  Maubuisson. 

"  Craven,  I  have  long  ceased  raging,"  the  Queen  said ; 
"  but  how  strange  a  destiny  it  is  that  two  of  my  children 


406  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

should  have  fallen  away  from  their  father's  faith  !  Edward 
and  Louise !  and  yet  I  have  no  bitterness  against  them 
now.  God  forgive  me !  there  is  but  one  whom  I  could 
never  pardon — even  now  I  cannot." 

Craven  nodded.  "  Yet  Prince  Philip  fought  bravely 
enough  before  he  fell  at  Rethel,"  he  said. 

The  Queen  turned  away,  her  eyes  had  grown  hard,  and 
she  gazed  at  the  smiling  country  joylessly  now.  She  had 
never  seen  Philip  since  that  day  when  they  had  come  and 
told  her  of  how  he  had  killed  D'Espinay.  She  had  no 
mercy  in  her  heart  for  one  capable  of  so  cowardly  a  crime. 
When  Princess  Elizabeth  had  urged  that  D'Espinay  had 
maddened  Philip  by  his  insolent  ways,  she  had  answered 
that  there  was  no  palliation  for  so  dastardly  a  crime. 
"  If  he  had  crept  alone  into  his  house  and  murdered  him, 
'twould  have  been  better,"  she  had  said ;  "  but  three  armed 
men  to  kill  one  unarmed  man !  It  is  a  crime  against 
honour  and  courage  ! "  Steadily  she  had  refused  to  see 
Philip,  refused  to  hear  his  name,  and  when  Princess 
Elizabeth  had  unwisely  reopened  the  subject,  praying 
her  to  pardon  Philip,  she  had  turned  on  her  with  such 
a  passion  of  anger  that  the  learned  maiden,  in  high  dis- 
pleasure, had  betaken  herself  to  her  aunt  in  Berlin,  and 
had  never  more  darkened  the  doors  of  the  house  on 
the  Lange  Voorhout.  Louise  Hollandine  had  wept  for 
D'Espinay  for  nigh  upon  a  week,  and  had  then  forgotten 
him  in  her  clandestine  practice  of  the  Catholic  faith,  in 
her  painting,  and  in  fancies  for  a  score  of  other  gallants. 
After  some  years  she  had  fled  from  her  mother's  house 
with  such  secrecy  that  the  busy  tongues  at  the  Hague 
had  made  her  the  target  for  their  poisoned  whispers. 
The  Princess  Louise  Hollandine  had  been  obliged  to  dis- 
appear in  order  to  hide  her  condition,  it  was  said.  What 
a  pity  that  the  fardingale  was  no  longer  the  mode ! 
However,  this  delicate  saying  was  unfounded  this  time, 
although  Louise  Hollandine  needed  the  fardingale  some 
thirteen  times  in  after  years,  but  perhaps  her  nun's  robe, 
and  the  seclusion  of  the  Abbey  of  Maubuisson  hid  her  as 
effectually  as  a  fardingale. 


HOME  407 

Sophie,  too,  had  left  her  mother  very  soon.  She  betook 
herself  to  Heidelberg,  where  Karlutz,  reinstated  since  the 
treaty  of  Westphalia  in  1648,  held  his  Court;  a  pretty 
unpleasant  Court  too ;  for  Karlutz  spent  his  time  in  quar- 
reling with  his  fierce-tempered  wife,  Charlotte  of  Hesse 
Cassel,  and  in  a  very  prolific  love  affair  with  her  lady-in- 
waiting,  Louise  von  Degenfeld. 

Henrietta,  fair  and  fragile,  had  at  last  married  Siegmund 
of  Rakoczy,  the  second  son  of  that  George  Rakoczy  who, 
on  the  death  of  Bethlem  Gabor,  had  been  elected  Prince 
of  Transylvania.  It  had  been  an  arranged  marriage,  and 
Siegmund  had  never  even  seen  his  bride  before  she  arrived 
in  Sarospatak,  but  he  conceived  so  ardent  a  devotion  for 
her  that  when,  some  five  months  after  their  marriage,  she 
died  of  fever,  he  fell  sick  and  within  a  year  followed  her 
to  the  grave. 

Thus  the  Queen  had  remained  alone  at  the  Hague, 
bitterly  poor  and  deeply  in  debt.  She  had  endured  the 
ignominy  of  being  forced  to  beseech  the  rebel  English  Par- 
liament to  grant  her  her  rightful  apanage  as  a  princess  of 
England.  "  Necessity  hath  no  law,"  she  had  said  grimly. 
Penury  had  caused  her  to  accept  a  much  smaller  sum 
than  was  her  due,  and  even  this  she  had  owed  to  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Puritans,  who  remembered  that  she  had 
ever  been  styled  "  God's  own  handmaiden !  "  Perhaps  this 
truckling  to  traitors  and  rebels  had  been  the  most  bitter 
of  all  the  bitternesses  that  she  had  known ;  but  Karlutz 
would  not  help  her,  Craven's  purse  was  well-nigh  ex- 
hausted ;  she  had  "  neither  bread,  nor  flask,  nor  candle," 
as  she  wrote  to  Craven  once,  when  this  faithful  friend 
had  journeyed  into  England  to  fight  for  his  rightful  for- 
tune, which  the  Parliamentarians  were  threatening  to 
confiscate,  Craven  being  a  "  malignant  and  a  friend  of  the 
proscribed  family  of  the  deceased  traitor  to  his  country, 
Charles  Stuart." 

If  it  had  not  been  for  the  generous  help  of  her  niece 
Mary  of  Orange,  the  Queen  would  have  been  in  the  direst 
straits ;  as  it  was,  she  had  but  few  horses  in  her  stables 
nowadays,  the  house  on  the  Lange  Voorhout  was  miser- 


408  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

ably  dingy  and  threadbare,  her  servants  were  reduced  in 
number,  and  even  these  few  were  ill  paid — often  not  paid 
at  all.  Princess  Mary  did  all  she  could,  but  there  were 
other  claims  upon  her ;  to  her  brother,  King  Charles,  to 
Prince  James,  and  to  little  Prince  Henry  she  was  obliged 
to  send  what  she  could  spare.  Her  mother  and  her  sister 
Henriette  were  in  Paris  in  such  poverty  that  they  often 
had  no  fire  to  warm  them. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  was  very  lonely.  Rupert  would  visit 
her  when  he  could ;  but  he  was  a  penniless  wanderer  and 
could  give  her  little  help.  Maurice,  brave  and  gentle, 
Rupert's  shadow,  Rupert's  faithful  follower,  had  been 
wrecked  when  sailing  for  the  West  Indies.  Rumours 
had  constantly  been  circulated  that  he  had  not  perished 
after  all ;  he  was  a  slave  at  Algiers ;  he  was  held  prisoner ; 
he  had  been  seen  in  Portugal.  Elizabeth  Stuart  set  her- 
self to  wait ;  he  would  come  back  some  day,  her  little 
Maurice,  to  whom  she  had  given  the  soldier's  name  long 
ago  at  gloomy  Clistrin. 

Karlutz  had  played  an  unhandsome  role  during  the 
late  years.  Never  really  in  sympathy  with  his  mother, 
he  had  roused  her  to  wrath  and  scorn  by  the  part  he  had 
played  in  England  during  the  rebellion,  for  he  had  sided 
with  the  Parliament,  had  even  been  suspected  of  a  plot 
to  dethrone  his  unhappy  uncle,  Charles  I.,  and,  as  the 
Roundheads'  candidate,  to  reign  as  "  Puritan  King  of  free 
England."  During  the  twelve  years  of  the  Commonwealth 
he  had  given  nothing  to  aid  his  unfortunate  cousins,  and 
had  grudged  each  thaler  he  had  been  forced  to  send  his 
mother.  Harsh  words  had  been  written  on  both  sides. 
Elizabeth  Stuart  had  drained  the  dregs  of  life's  bitter- 
ness ;  she  had  learned  to  be  ashamed  of  those  she  loved. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  Craven  she  would  have  been 
utterly  lonely ;  but  "  the  little  man  "  came  to  the  Hague 
constantly,  and  his  quiet,  unselfish  devotion  was  her  one 
refuge.  Sometimes  his  gentle  homage  reminded  her  of 
Christel's  in  the  fan.'  days  at  Heidelberg — long  ago — 
long  ago  !  Christel  was  dead  now.  In  truth  he  went  out 
of  her  life  before  the  battle  of  the  White  Mountain,  yet 


HOME  409 

she  had  grieved  again  when  she  heard  he  had  passed  away 
peacefully  at  Bernburg ;  it  had  seemed  to  her  that  with 
his  death  her  own  past  died. 

Much,  too,  had  changed  at  the  Hague.  After  Frederik 
Hendrik's  death  the  Princess  Amalia  had  continued  to 
reside  at  the  Binnenhof,  comfortable,  commonplace,  dull. 
Even  the  short  drama  of  her  son,  William  II. 's  life  had 
not  seemed  to  disturb  her.  Elizabeth  Stuart  had  sympa- 
thised warmly  with  the  impetuous  youth's  ambition, 
albeit  she  could  not  openly  side  with  him,  being  as  she 
was  under  great  obligations  for  the  benefits  bestowed  upon 
her  and  hers  by  the  States-General  during  thirty-five 
years ;  yet  she  had  understood  his  haughty  anger  that  one 
of  his  House  should  be  obliged  to  refer  all  things  to  their 
High  Mightinesses — understood  that  he  wished  to  reign  as 
hereditary  Stadthouder  !  Then  came  his  untimely  death, 
and  shortly  afterwards  Princess  Mary  had  given  birth  to 
that  frail,  sickly  infant,  William  III.  of  Orange,  who 
none  had  deemed  could  be  reared  to  manhood.  Little  did 
any  one  think  that  the  ailing  child  was  destined  to  rule 
England  and  Holland  with  an  iron  rule ! 

Duller  days  than  ever  had  fallen  on  the  Hague,  and  the 
Queen  smiled  when  she  recalled  poor  D'Espinay's  saying 
that  it  was  dull  "  a  mourir  jeune  ! "  The  tedium  had  been 
interrupted  by  the  festivities  celebrating  the  Restoration 
of  Charles  II.  There  had  been  banquets  in  the  Binnenhof 
once  more,  merrymakings  and  rejoicings,  and  Elizabeth 
Stuart  had  seen  her  nephew,  an  acknowledged  King,  sail 
away  from  Scheveningen  to  claim  his  own  in  England. 

"  Come  soon,  dear  aunt ;  I  will  make  a  ragout  of  the 
Puritans  for  your  first  supper  at  Whitehall ! "  he  had 
whispered  gaily  as  he  bade  her  farewell.  After  a  few 
weeks  Princess  Mary  had  also  sailed  for  England,  and  the 
dulness  of  the  Hague  had  weighed  like  lead  on  the  Queen's 
spirit.  There  had  come  the  news  of  poor  young  Henry, 
Duke  of  Gloucester's  death ;  and  three  months  later  the 
Queen  had  heard  that  Princess  Mary  of  Orange  had  also 
taken  the  smallpox  and  was  like  to  die.  Elizabeth  Stuart 
would  have  sailed  then  and  there  for  England,  had  she  had 


410  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

the  money,  but,  as  usual,  she  was  penniless.  The  small- 
pox is  one  of  Death's  swiftest  messengers,  and  in  a  few 
days  the  Queen  had  heard  that  Princess  Mary  was  dead. 

And  now  the  Hague  became  insufferable  to  Elizabeth 
Stuart.  She  was  too  lonely,  too  weary ;  and  she  had 
decided  to  journey  to  England.  She  had  pawned  her 
few  remaining  jewels,  had  paid  her  creditors  what  she 
could,  and  had  promised  them  to  return  out  of  England 
with  gold  enough  to  satisfy  their  claims.  She  had  granted 
her  chief  creditors  an  audience— it  had  taken  place  in  the 
courtyard  at  the  back  of  the  house  on  the  Lange  Voorhout 
— for  she  did  not  wish  them  to  see  how  threadbare  and 
frayed  were  her  chairs  and  hangings ;  here  she  had  thanked 
the  honest  tradesmen  for  their  generous  forbearance,  and 
they  had  withdrawn  from  her  presence,  feeling  as  though 
they  were  in  her  debt,  not  she  in  theirs ! 

With  high  hopes  she  had  set  out,  accompanied  by 
Craven.  At  the  outset  her  buoyancy  had  been  dashed 
by  Charles'  messenger  at  Delftshaven,  but  she  had  sailed 
joyously  nevertheless,  believing,  in  spite  of  experience,  that 
all  would  be  well. 

And  now  she  stood  on  the  ship's  deck  talking  with  Craven, 
but  watching  the  coast  for  some  message  of  welcome,  ex- 
pecting to  see  a  Royal  barge  skimming  over  the  water. 

The  twilight  fell ;  she  could  hear  the  birds  chanting 
their  evensong  in  a  copse  near  the  river-banks.  "  There 
is  no  messenger  from  the  King,  Craven,"  she  said,  and 
her  voice  was  unnaturally  steady,  steady  with  effort.  "  It 
is  of  no  consequence !  Tell  the  captain  to  weigh  anchor, 
thus  we  shall  land  unnoticed." 

"  It  will  be  much  more  restful  for  your  Majesty  than 
the  noise  of  a  state  reception,"  said  Craven,  without 
looking  at  her. 

"  I  vow  'tis  mighty  thoughtful  of  my  nephew,"  she 
answered ;  "he  doubtless  knew  that  I  should  prefer  to 
arrive  quietly." 

Craven  bent  and  kissed  her  hand,  and  in  the  half-light 
she  did  not  see  that  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 


HOME  411 

The  Queen  of  Bohemia  was  installed  in  my  Lord  of 
Craven's  house,  a  fine  enough  mansion,  with  lofty  rooms 
and  a  large  garden  where  the  last  lilacs  were  still  in  bloom 
when  her  Majesty  arrived.  The  "  little  man  "  had  bought 
Combe  Abbey  many  years  ago  from  the  impoverished 
Harringtons,  and  he  had  ordered  many  things  from 
thence  to  be  brought  up  to  London  to  furnish  the  apart- 
ments which  he  had  placed  at  the  Queen's  disposal,  thus 
she  found  in  Craven  House  chairs  and  mirrors,  and 
pictures,  which  she  had  known  in  the  days  of  her 
childhood  at  Combe. 

Two  mornings  after  her  arrival  she  and  Craven  were 
together  in  the  "  great  parlour  "  overlooking  the  garden. 
The  latticed  windows  stood  wide  open.  The  Queen  was 
sitting  in  a  tall,  walnut-wood  chair  which  she  remembered 
to  have  been  Lady  Harrington's.  A  gentle  breeze  stirred 
the  crimson  silken  curtains  which  bordered  the  deep 
embrasure  of  the  windows,  and  the  scent  of  the  lilacs 
was  wafted  in.  It  was  very  still  in  the  room,  for  that 
quiet  part  of  London  near  Drury  Lane,  though  it  was 
beginning  to  be  the  mode,  was  still  but  sparsely  built 
over,  and  each  handsome  mansion  owned  a  large  garden. 

The  whole  preceding  day  Elizabeth  Stuart  had 
"  rested."  In  reality  she  had  waited  for  a  visit  from 
the  King;  in  reality  both  she  and  Craven  had  listened 
to  each  footfall  in  the  corridor,  hoping  that  it  might  be 
that  of  a  lackey  hastening  to  announce  his  Majesty — or 
some  envoy  from  him.  But  the  night  had  fallen,  and 
still  Charles  had  not  sent  a  greeting  to  his  kinswoman. 
Craven  had  prayed  her  Majesty  permit  him  go  to  White- 
hall to  wait  upon  the  King,  but  she  had  answered  that 
her  nephew  was  surely  giving  her  time  to  recover  from 
the  fatigues  of  travel ;  he  would  come  to  her  in  a  few  days. 

On  her  arrival  at  Craven  House  Prince  Rupert  had 
greeted  his  mother  right  lovingly,  albeit  his  quiet,  stern 
manner  always  made  him  appear  cold.  His  chemical 
experiments  occupied  him  more  than  ever  nowadays 
and  he  told  her  Majesty  that  she  must  not  account  him 
churlish  if  he  were  not  constantly  at  her  side ;  he  had 


412  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

much  business  to  transact  with  the  ordering  of  the  fleet, 
which  often  kept  him  away  from  London. 

"  Oh !  son  of  mine,"  she  said,  "  think  you  that  I  would 
have  you  under  my  wing  ?  The  old  hen  hath  hatched 
out  her  brood,  Rupert ;  and  'tis  but  a  foolish  old  hen 
who  raises  a  cackle  after  a  full-grown  young  cock  as  if 
he  were  a  chick  !  No,  leave  that — I  understand  you,  son, 
leave  that,  and  tell  me  of  this  new  way  of  graving  which 
you  are  so  busy  about." 

He  told  her  of  the  new  mezzo  tinto  which  had  been 
discovered  by  an  artillery  captain  in  the  Netherlands, 
and  how  'twould  be  a  perfect  way  of  reproducing  even 
the  most  delicate  miniatures. 

Rupert's  presence  had  lightened  the  strain  of  waiting 
for  a  messenger  from  King  Charles,  which  both  she  and 
Craven  had  found  irksome  enough,  though,  as  was  her 
custom,  the  Queen  crushed  disagreeable  trifles  by  ignoring 
them,  as  she  was  wont  to  say. 

But  this  morning,  as  she  and  Craven  sat  together  in 
the  "  great  parlour,"  there  was  no  Prince  Rupert  to  divert 
their  attention,  for  he  had  ridden  away  the  preceding 
evening  to  Chatham.  For  some  time  they  sat  in  silence. 

"  Craven,  my  friend,"  she  cried  suddenly,  "  let  us  have 
a  jaunt  to-day.  I'll  don  my  largest  velvet  mask ;  you  can 
be  masked  too,  and  we'll  go  to  Mulberry  Gardens,  or 
shall  we  find  seats  in  some  playhouse  ? " 

Craven  looked  perplexed.  "  Punch's  playhouse  admits 
no  one  who  is  masked — and  the  cockpit — your  Majesty, 
you  could  not  go  there  like  a  stranger ;  'tis  very  like  the 


King  and  the  whole  Court  will  be  there " 

"  Why  not  the  Duke's  Theatre  ?     I   have   heard   'tis 

mighty  fine,"  she  said. 

"  It  was  years  ago — "  he  began,  then  hesitated  ;  he  did 

not  want  to  remind  her  how  long  it  was  since  she  had 

seen  London.     "  It  hath  grown  a  trifle — er — dusty,"  he 

finished  lamely. 

"  So  have  I,"  she  answered,  laughing,     As  she  spoke 

hurried  footsteps  were  heard  in  the  corridor,  and  a  lackey 

came  in. 


HOME  413 

"  His  Majesty  the  King  has  just  entered  the  courtyard, 
my  lord,"  he  said. 

"  I  will  receive  his  Majesty  here,"  the  Queen  said  coldly. 
Craven  hurried  away  to  meet  the  King  at  the  house  door. 

King  Charles  came  quickly  into  the  "  great  parlour." 
He  wore  no  cloak.  His  light-blue  satin  doublet  fitted 
closely  to  his  slight,  wiry  figure,  a  collar  of  fine  white  lace 
showed  up  the  olive  hue  of  his  thin  face,  with  the  harsh, 
little,  black  moustache  brushed  away  from  his  well-cut, 
melancholy  mouth.  His  large  brown  eyes  were  very  like 
Elizabeth  Stuart's.  He  wore  his  own  hair  long  and  curled. 

The  Queen  curtsied  deeply;  then,  as  he  stood  a  moment 
in  the  doorway,  she  came  towards  him  with  outstretched 
hands. 

"  Good  greeting  to  your  Majesty,"  she  said  pleasantly. 

A  quick  smile  of  relief  passed  over  Charles'  swarthy  face. 
"  God's  'ounds !  I  am  right  glad  to  see  you,  my  merry 
lady  ! "  he  cried.  "  I  have  been  a-walking  to  Charing  to 
look  at  my  new  Barbary  mare,  and  I  ventured  to  come 
see  if  your  Majesty  had  arrived." 

"  My  Majesty  arrived  two  days  since  very  secretly, 
nephew,"  she  said  lightly ;  "  and  my  Majesty  was  well 
pleased  that  your  Majesty  let  me  come  home  so  quietly ! " 

"  I  believe  that  my  Majesty  is  a  scurvy  knave,"  he 
answered,  smiling ;  "  but  I've  just  had  proof  again  that  my 
Majesty's  dear  aunt  is,  as  ever,  a  right  witty  lady ! "  He 
led  her  towards  the  window-seat,  then  paused. 

"  There  is  a  pack  of  silly  fools  who  call  themselves  my 
dear  friends ;  they  wait  without  to  be  presented  to  your 
Majesty.  They  are  all  a-panting  from  our  walk ! "  he 
added  in  a  whisper. 

She  laughed.  "  Nephew  Charles,  an  you  walk  at  a 
run,  as  you  used  to  do,  I  forgive  the  poor  gentlemen," 
she  said. 

"  They  like  it — ah  !  they  affect  it  greatly — run  after 
me — since  I  am  King ! "  he  said  bitterly.  "  I  walked 
alone  before ;  but  'tis  good  for  the  health,  sweet  aunt, 
whether  you  are  followed  by  a  pack  of  panting  peers,  or 
walk  alone — 'tis  always  good  for  the  health."  This  last 


414  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

was  spoken  gravely,  for  Charles  was  always  serious  when 
he  talked  of  his  health. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  smiled.  "  Bring  in  the  pack  of  fools, 
nephew,"  she  said. 

The  Bang  went  to  the  door :  "  Her  Majesty  will  receive 
you,  gentlemen,"  he  called. 

About  half-a-dozen  gallants  entered. 

"  Which  of  'em  hath  not  the  honour  to  be  known  to 
your  Majesty  ? "  the  King  said. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  scanned  the  gentlemen.  "  I  need  no 
one  to  present  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  to  me,"  she  said 
graciously,  holding  out  her  hand.  "  Alas  !  sir,  changed 
days  since  you  sojourned  in  Holland ! " 

"Ah  !  madam,  'tis  very  true,"  George  Villiers  answered 
gloomily. 

"  He  hath  long  forgotten  his  love  for  my  sister  of 
Orange,  sweet  aunt ! "  the  King  said  mockingly.  "  Ask 
him  how  he  fared  in  France — ask  him  how  sped  his 
wooing  of  Henriette." 

Buckingham  flushed  angrily.  His  mad  passion  for 
Princess  Henriette  had  disturbed  Monsieur  le  Due 
d'Orleans'  recent  wedding  festivities,  and  Buckingham 
had  been  summarily  dismissed.  He  knew  that  the 
Court  at  Whitehall  had  made  merry  over  his  discom- 
fiture, that  my  Lady  Castlemaine  never  missed  an 
opportunity  of  uttering  a  coarse  gibe  at  his  expense, 
that  the  King  vastly  enjoyed  the  pleasantry. 

The  Queen  turned  to  the  other  gentlemen.  "  I  think 
I  know  your  face,  sir  ! "  she  said  to  a  slight,  fair-haired 
man.  "  No  ?  yet  you  are  so  like  that  you  must  be  a 
kinsman  of  that  poor  Kinnoul  who  was  so  fine  an  archer  ? 
We  had  many  a  good  hour's  shooting  at  the  targets 
together  with  my  Lord  of  Montrose  years  ago  at  Rhenen." 

"  He  was  my  uncle,  your  Majesty ;  he  died  of  fever  at 
Orkney  when  he  was  raising  troops  for  his  Majesty  of 
blessed  memory,"  the  young  man  answered. 

"  At  Rhenen  he  often  spoke  of  his  young  brother, 
George  Hay ;  was  he  your  father  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam." 


HOME  415 

"  Does  he  live  still  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Madam,  'tis  thought  that  he  died  of  starvation.  He 
followed  my  Lord  of  Montrose  after  Corbiesdale ;  they 
wandered  for  days  in  the  hills,  and  my  father  fainted 
for  hunger.  My  Lord  of  Montrose  was  forced  to  leave 
him,  and  he  was  never  heard  of  more." 

"  And  you  are  my  Lord  of  Kinnoul  now  ? "  she  said. 
"  Ah !  sir,  forgive  me,  but  I  am  like  a  ghost  of  the 
past ;  I  do  not  know  the  world  of  to-day,"  she  added  a 
little  sadly. 

"  You  soon  will,  aunt ! "  cried  the  King,  anxious  to 
turn  the  talk  to  some  gayer  theme.  "  See,  here  is  Sir 
Charles  Sedley,  a  poet  with  a  monstrous  pretty  daughter ; 
and  Sir  Anthony  Ashley — oh !  I  forgot — my  Lord 
Ashley !  I've  just  baked  him  from  a  baronet  to  a 
peer ;  'odds  truth !  but  I  had  to  bake  him  anew,  for 
he  smelled  musty  of  stale,  sham  Puritanism ! " 

"I  am  as  crisp  now  for  your  Majesty's  service  as  I 
was  flabby  in  the  service  of  the  rebels,"  answered  Ashley 
coolly. 

"  Tut !  man,  you  have  the  finest  practice  of  self-service 
I  have  ever  met,"  said  the  King,  lolling  lazily  in  the 
cushioned  window-seat.  "  Will  your  Majesty  do  me  the 
honour  to  come  to  the  Cockpit  this  afternoon  and  see  a 
comedy  ? " 

"  Right  willingly,  nephew,"  the  Queen  cried.  "  Craven 
here  was  saying  this  very  morning  that  I  could  not  go." 

"  That  was  before  his  Majesty's  visit,"  Craven  said, 
casting  Charles  a  resentful  look. 

"  Gad's  'ooks !  Craven,  I  love  thee  !  Thou  art  an 
honest — fool ! "  said  the  King,  clapping  the  "  little  man  " 
on  the  shoulder. 

That  afternoon,  towards  three  of  the  clock,  the  King's 
own  carosse  with  the  four  dappled  Flanders  mares  was 
seen  driving  through  the  ill-paved  streets  to  the  Cockpit. 
The  streets  were  thronged  with  ponderous  vehicles,  which 
Craven  told  the  Queen  were  hackney-coaches,  and  could 
be  hired  by  any  person  who  could  pay  their  price. 
Before  the  theatre  was  a  veritable  army  of  serving-men 


416  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

struggling  and  fighting,  and  dozens  of  orange-girls  yelling 
their  wares  in  loud  tones.  At  the  door  of  the  theatre 
her  Majesty  found  the  King  awaiting  her,  surrounded  by 
a  number  of  gentlemen.  His  Majesty  led  her  to  the 
centre  gallery,  and  stood  leaning  over  her  chair  and 
pointing  out  the  various  people  of  interest  among  the 
audience. 

"  There  is  Tom  Killigrew  next  to  Ashley ;  to  the  left 
is  Lauderdale ;  and  there  is  Roscommon.  There  stands 
my  Lord  of  Worcester  ! "  he  said.  "  No,  you  are  looking 
at  old  Ormond — a  mighty  dullard,  but  good ;  only  he 
wearies  me  with  his  stately  ways,  you  know,  sweet  aunt. 
But  look  at  Worcester ;  ah  !  we  owe  him  much — so 
much,  that  'tis  best  to  forget  it ! " 

The  Queen  saw  an  extremely  tall  old  man,  with  a 
small  pointed  beard  and  brushed-up  moustache  in  the 
mode  of  King  Charles  I.,  with  melancholy,  weary  brown 
eyes  under  highly-arched,  pencilled  eyebrows,  with  an 
enormous  hooked  nose. 

"  Yes,  that  is  Worcester — a  nose  like  a  bird's  beak, 
you  say,  dear  Majesty  ?  Yes,  but  he  likes  it ;  for  on 
some  old  fellow's  tomb,  some  ancestor  of  three  hun- 
dred years  ago,  you  may  see  a  monster  hook  sticking 
up — so  they  say.  Where  is  it  ?  Oh  !  Westminster 
Abbey,  or  some  such  place — I  never  know  these  things ; 
but  I  know  old  Worcester  would  give  half  his  face — 
that's  his  nose,  sweet  aunt,  ain't  it  ? — to  have  me  see 
some  contrivance  he's  builded  to  make  wheels  run  by 
steam.  I  can't  be  plagued  to  see  the  thing ;  but  I'll 
make  old  Worcester  a  duke  some  day,  when  I've  leisure 
— he's  got  my  father's  letter  and  a  patent  making  him 
a  duke  in  his  pocket  now  !  'Odds  life,  they  all  have 
claims,"  he  added  gloomily,  "  all  of  'em,  all  of  'em  !  " 
He  fell  to  stroking  the  silky-haired  spaniel  which  he 
held  under  his  arm.  "  They'd  need  three  kings  and  six 
treasuries  to  content  'em  all,"  he  muttered,  and  fell  into 
a  moody  silence. 

In  the  pit  the  serving- men  squabbled  and  fought : 
baronets'  lackeys  fighting  knights'  major-domos,  earls' 


HOME  417 

outriders  jostling  barons'  henchmen.  A  ceaseless  hum- 
ming filled  the  air ;  loud  voices  screamed  broad  pleasan- 
tries from  gallery  to  gallery,  and  the  orange-girls  plied 
their  trade  with  noisy  effrontery  among  the  gallants  who 
stood  about. 

Opposite  the  Queen  was  a  row  of  empty  chairs,  towards 
which  she  noticed  Charles  constantly  glanced.  Now, 
with  a  deal  of  calling  out  and  ostentatious  ado,  a  tall, 
thin  woman  with  a  pale  face,  light-brown  hair,  and  large, 
limpid  hazel  eyes,  was  led  to  one  of  these  chairs  by  a 
much-bedizened  gentleman,  whom  the  Queen  recognised 
as  my  Lord  Duke  of  Buckingham. 

"  Who  is  that  with  the  Duke — methinks  I  know  her 
face,  nephew  ?  "  she  said  ;  but  the  King  had  gone.  She 
saw  him  threading  his  way  along  the  gallery  towards 
the  lady. 

For  a  moment  the  Queen  sat  there  alone  among  that 
gay  assemblage.  She  saw  that  all  the  gentlemen  who 
attended  the  King  had  followed  him,  and  were  crowding 
round  the  pale-faced  woman. 

"  I  crave  your  Majesty's  pardon,  I  was  sending  a 
messenger  to  bring  my  carosse  to  drive  your  Majesty 
home,"  said  Craven's  voice  at  her  elbow. 

"  Why  so,  little  man  ? "  she  asked  wonderingly. 

"  Lady  Castlemaine  had  refused  to  come  to  the  Cockpit 
this  day — as  I  heard.  But  she's  changed  her  caprice, 
and  there  might  be  a  desperate  pother  if  she  wished  the 
King  to  drive  her  in  his  carosse  to  supper  at  Whitehall 
after  the  play,"  he  answered ;  "so  I  have  sent  for  your 
Majesty's  own  carosse — 'twill  be  there  an  you  need  it." 

"  Craven,  you  are  mighty  good  to  an  old  woman,"  she 
said,  and  there  flashed  across  her  lips  and  eyes  that  smile 
which  always  made  her  look  young  again. 

"  I  am  there  to  serve  you,"  he  answered  in  a  low  voice. 

"  So  that  is  my  new  Lady  Castlemaine,"  the  Queen  said 
after  a  pause.  "  Yes,  I  saw  her  once  in  Holland  some 
years  back.  She  looks  mild  enough,  but  they  do  say 
that  not  even  an  old  barber  woman  of  Drury  Lane  can 
outstrip  her  in  rough  words  ! " 

2  D 


418  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

Silence  fell  between  them,  and  they  watched  the  gay, 
restless  scene  in  the  playhouse — the  inattentive,  whisper- 
ing audience ;  the  gallants  on  the  stage  itself,  where  their 
crowding  almost  hid  the  actors;  the  actors  a  motley 
band,  and  the  "  lady  "  who  played  the  role  of  a  forsaken 
damsel — a  long,  lanky  figure,  whose  angular  movements, 
strides,  and  hoarse  voice  proclaimed  her  to  be  a  "  boy  "  of 
something  over  fifty  years.  The  performances  at  the 
Cockpit  were  old-fashioned  and  badly  played,  though  the 
audience  still  vastly  preferred  the  antics  of  the  boy 
"  actresses  "  to  the  new  mode  of  women  playing  the  female 
roles,  as  was  to  be  seen  at  some  of  the  other  London 
playhouses. 

The  Queen's  eyes  wandered  to  my  Lady  Castlemaine 
and  the  King.  He  was  lolling  lazily  beside  her,  his 
little  spaniel  in  his  arms,  and  his  sad  brown  eyes  gazing 
absently  into  the  playhouse,  while  my  lady  poured  forth 
a  torrent  of  words  at  him. 

"My  nephew  does  not  seem  to  be  enjoying  himself 
too  much ! "  the  Queen  said  to  Craven. 

"  Nay,"  he  answered,  "  Mistress  Barbara  Palmer's — I 
implore  her  pardon — my  Lady  Castlemaine's  service  is 
no  light  task !  But  'tis  said  his  Majesty  looked  over- 
long  at  little  Mistress  Frances,  Captain  Walter  Stewart's 
daughter,  the  other  day,  and  that  since  then  Castlemaine 
is  fiercer  than  ever." 

The  Queen  sighed.  "  My  nephew  is  a  prey  to  these 
women,"  she  said. 

"  But,  madam,  'twill  be  different  when  the  Portuguese 
Princess  comes  and  takes  her  place  as  Queen,"  Craven 
answered. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  shook  her  head.  "  Little  man,  you 
judge  the  world  by  your  own  good  heart  and  honest 
habits  !  But  look ! "  she  added,  "  why,  there  is  Nan  Hyde, 
my  royal  niece  of  York !  At  the  playhouse  so  soon  after 
her  baby  boy's  death  !  Ah  !  she's  as  hard  as  a  pebble, 
I  always  thought  it  when  she  was  lady-in-waiting  to  my 
poor  niece  of  Orange  at  the  Hague."  She  looked  across 
at  the  Duchess  of  York,  fair,  placid,  and  commonplace. 


HOME  419 

Suddenly,  amidst  this  world,  which  was  her  world,  and 
yet  utterly  strange  to  her,  a  wave  of  unwonted  sadness 
swept  over  Elizabeth  Stuart.  Why  had  she  left  Holland, 
she  asked  herself?  There  she  knew  all  the  polite  world, 
knew  the  lives,  the  characters  of  the  men  and  women ; 
the  older  ones  had  seen  her  as  a  young  woman,  the  younger 
men  and  ladies  she  had  known  when  they  were  children. 
Now  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  left  a  home ;  there 
she  had  played  a  part,  whereas  here  she  was  an  onlooker, 
here  she  had  no  place.  At  that  moment  she  knew  the 
bitterness  of  loneliness  in  a  crowd,  that  loneliness  which 
is  nearly  fear — almost  panic.  And  now  she  became  aware 
that  thousands  of  eyes  scrutinised  her — curiously — coldly. 
Womanlike  she  was  seized  with  a  terror  lest  her  gown 
was  old-fashioned — absurd.  She  gripped  the  arms  of  her 
chair  convulsively,  told  herself  that  she  was  a  fool — an 
old  fool.  She  saw  my  Lady  Castlemaine  looking  at  her, 
saw  her  laugh ;  Nan  Hyde,  too,  whispered  to  a  lady  seated 
next  her,  and  they  both  laughed. 

The  first  act  of  the  comedy  came  to  an  end,  and  a 
greater  hubbub  than  ever  arose.  Behind  her  she  heard 
a  voice  say :  "  Before  the  Commonwealth  ?  Lord  love  ye, 
before  the  late  king  reigned !  Why !  time  of  old  King 
James  !  "  She  turned  her  head  abruptly ;  three  gallants 
were  wending  their  way  along  the  gallery.  She  heard 
them  laughing. 

The  King  came  across  to  her.  His  face  was  drawn 
with  weariness ;  an  ugly  sneer  twisted  his  lips  when  he 
tried  to  smile  at  her. 

"  Will  you  grace  my  Palace  of  Whitehall  at  supper 
to-night,  sweet  aunt  ? "  he  said,  "  it  would  be  mighty 
pleasant."  She  read  through  his  kindly  intent,  knew  he 
was  in  deadly  fear  of  his  mistress's  wrath  ;  if  she  went  to 
Whitehall  she  would  use  the  King's  carosse,  and  Castle- 
maine would  have  to  follow  in  her  own  coach  ;  if  she  did 
not  go  to  Whitehall,  the  mistress,  although  she  would 
have  had  the  King's  carosse,  would  torment  the  King 
because  it  would  be  said  that  the  Queen  of  Bohemia 
would  not  sup  in  my  Lady  of  Castlemaine's  company. 


420  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Nay,  nephew  Charles,  I  pray  you  hold  me  excused," 
the  Queen  said.  "  I  am  still  weary  with  travel ;  would 
your  Majesty  permit  me  to  withdraw  now  ?  My  Lord  of 
Craven's  coach  awaits  me.  Nephew,  I  shall  be  right 
willing  to  sup  at  Whitehall  another  evening — you  shall 
choose  the  company,  Charles — you  shall  choose  the 
company." 

My  Lady  of  Castlemaine  saw  the  King  bow  over  the 
Queen's  hand,  saw  him  kiss  it  twice  almost  like  a  lover, 
before  he  led  her  along  the  gallery  to  the  door.  Lady 
Castlemaine  delivered  herself  of  a  coarse  jest  on  the 
subject  of  amours  within  the  proscribed  degrees  of  affinity, 
and  she  was  more  than  usual  shrewish  when  Charles 
returned  to  her.  The  King's  whole  attitude  to  Elizabeth 
Stuart  had  been  that  of  a  man  under  the  spell,  not  alone 
of  a  woman's  charm,  but  of  her  generous  pride  of  race 
and  easy  humorous  knowledge  of  the  world. 

Some  fortnight  after  the  visit  to  the  Cockpit,  the 
Queen  and  my  Lord  of  Craven  were  together  in  the 
"  great  parlour  "  at  Craven  House.  Spring  had  hurried 
onwards,  and  Summer  reigned.  The  parlour  windows 
stood  wide  open,  and  a  scent  of  roses  and  freshly  mown 
grass  stole  in.  The  clear  air  was  full  of  the  quick,  soft 
notes  of  swallows  as  they  darted  past,  circled,  soared,  then 
flashed  away  beyond  the  gardens  and  the  labyrinth  of 
narrow  streets  between  Craven  House  and  the  river. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  leaned  there  in  the  straight-backed 
walnut  chair.  Her  strong  white  hands  with  the  long 
delicate  fingers  rested  idly  on  the  polished  chair-arms, 
and  Craven  noted  that  their  delicacy  had  grown,  and 
that  the  blue  veins  showed  on  them  more  than  ever. 
He  glanced  at  her  face ;  she  looked  a  trifle  weary,  he 
thought,  but  then  it  had  seemed  that  King  Charles  could 
not  have  enough  of  her  Majesty's  company.  He  had 
carried  her  off  to  playhouse  and  opera,  had  prayed  her 
accompany  him  to  see  the  royal  stables  at  Charing,  to 
feed  the  ducks  on  the  water  in  St.  James's  Park,  had 
insisted  on  her  watching  him  playing  tennis ;  she  had 


HOME  421 

been  here,  there,  and  everywhere  with  him,  until  a  pert 
writer  in  one  of  the  News  Letters  had  written  that :  "  My 
Lady  of  C.  hath  a  veritable  rival  in  the  Q.  of  B."  Seeing 
how  the  King's  fancy  went,  the  whole  Court  gave  her 
much  honour,  and  my  Lord  Clarendon  was  heard  to 
declare  that  he  had  hopes  of  his  Majesty  learning  to 
enjoy  decent  company  yet. 

Despite  all  this  homage  Craven  had  seen  a  shadow  on 
Elizabeth  Stuart's  face.  He  knew  she  was  troubled  by 
Karlutz's  unchivalrous  action  in  threatening  to  have  her 
few  belongings  seized,  if  she  endeavoured  to  have  them 
removed  from  the  Hague.  The  things  were  his,  Karlutz 
averred,  and  he  would  have  them  at  Heidelberg.  King 
Charles  had  written  his  cousin  a  peremptory  command, 
and  had  presented  the  Queen  with  some  twelve  thousand 
pounds  wherewith  to  satisfy  her  Hague  creditors'  most 
pressing  demands.  Things  were  going  well  at  last  for 
her  Majesty,  yet  Craven  thought  he  saw  a  cloud  on  her 
brow,  and  the  love  in  his  heart  taught  him  to  understand 
that  she  felt  herself  to  be  old  and  out  of  place  in  this 
new,  gay  world. 

As  she  leaned  there  in  her  high-backed  chair,  listening 
to  the  summer  sounds  in  the  garden,  her  thoughts  were 
busy  with  the  past.  The  swallows'  chirping  song  recalled 
many  scenes  to  her  mind,  scenes  which  only  she  on  earth  re- 
membered, and  herein  is  the  inevitable  loneliness  of  old  age. 

She  was  revisiting  Heidelberg — as  it  had  been — as  it 
had  been — it  was  all  changed  now.  She  was  seeing 
Prague  again — the  Hradcany — the  Star  Palace.  She 
remembered  how  she  and  Friedrich  had  stood  together 
looking  from  out  the  window  of  her  withdrawing-room, 
and  that  over  the  Stag  Park  the  swallows  had  soared 
uttering  this  same  sharp,  hurried  song.  Once  more  she 
saw  before  her  the  grand  view  of  Prague — the  mighty 
sweep  of  the  Moldau — the  long  line  of  the  monastery  on 
the  Strahow  Hill — the  grim  squareness  of  the  old  mill  on 
the  river.  She  passed  her  hand  over  her  eyes.  What 
was  Craven  saying  ?  His  voice  sounded  far  off.  She 
called  back  her  wandering  attention. 


422  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  Oh !  my  Queen,  I  cannot  bear  to  see  your  eyes  look 
so  sad  !  "  he  was  saying.  "  I  know  you  are  oppressed  with 
loneliness  sometimes — I  know  these  struggles  with  the 
Elector  Karlutz  are  bitter  to  you.  Queen  of  my  life,  let 
me  serve  you — let  me  have  the  right  to  protect  you. 
Forgive  my  presumption." 

Once  before  he  had  prayed  her  this  same  prayer,  but 
she  had  laughingly  told  him  "  he  had  a  gigue  in  his 
head,"  and  that  he  had  best  marry  Princess  Elizabeth. 

"  Ah  !  Craven,"  she  said  gravely,  "  must  the  reward  of 
all  your  loving  service  of  me  be  a  cold  word  of  denial  ? 
Friend,  friend,  why  must  you  ask  me  this  ?  It  could 
be  but  a  monstrous  silly  thing  for  June  to  mate  with 
November  !  Because  of  your  great  love  of  me,  you  forget 
that  I  am  an  old  woman."  She  laid  her  hand  on  his 
arm.  "  Nay,  do  not  shake  your  head,  friend,  I  am  an  old 
woman,  and  you  are  young." 

"  Madam,  madam  !  "  he  broke  in  eagerly,  "  you  could 
never  grow  old  to  me  !  I  am  no  youth,  but  a  grave  man 
past  middle  age.  June  and  November  !  Why,  madam, 
I  am  in  the  autumn  of  life  too  !  You  can  never  grow 
old  to  me  because  I  love  you." 

"  Yet  I  am  old,  Craven,  and  the  world  would  jeer  at 
you,"  she  answered ;  "  aye,  and  at  me,  too,  did  I  become 
your  wife.  The  world  has  an  ugly,  clear  vision,  and  an 
ugly  set  of  words  wherewith  to  name  things !  Yes,  my 
lord,"  she  added,  "  drawing  herself  up  haughtily,  "  let  us 
be  unfortunate  if  God  wills  it,  but  ridiculous  never ! " 

"  My  Queen,"  he  said  humbly,  "  believe  me,  I  but  offer 
you  my  poor  protection — and  all  the  service  of  my  life. 
I  would  never  offer  you  wifehood  as  to  some  hoyden  girl, 
madam — you  understand  ?  I  would  but  kiss  your  finger- 
tips— the  hem  of  your  gown — and  think  myself  for  this 
prouder  than  any  lover  who  may  dare  to  ask  and  take  all 
that  a  woman  hath  to  give." 

She  looked  at  him  musingly. 

"  And  yet,"  she  said  after  a  pause,  "  and  yet  the  world 
would  count  our  marriage  as  a  hideous  thing." 

"  What  need  the  world  to  know  ?  "  he  cried ;  "  yet  if 


HOME  423 

I  had  the  right  I  could  protect  you  against  a  hundred 
importunities ;  I  could  treat  with  the  Elector — only  those 
need  know  who  dare  molest  you — then  I  could  shield 
you.  Oh !  my  Queen,  all  the  world  knows  how  utterly 
I  love  you " 

"  Would  it  give  you  such  happiness  ? "  she  interrupted. 
"  I  would  fain  give  you  happiness,  Craven,  but  it  could  be 
no  mating ;  friend  of  mine,  I  am  an  old  woman — it  could 
be  no  mating."  Her  hand  went  up  to  her  breast  and 
touched  a  little  crystal  jewel  which  lay  there — a  little 
jewel  graven  with  the  name  "Elizabeth." 

"There  is  a  line  of  an  old  song  which  often  rings  in 
my  mind,  madam,  when  I  think  of  my  love  for  you," 
Craven  said — 

"  The  heaven  of  heavens  with  heavenly  power  preserve  thee, 
Love  but  thyself,  and  give  me  leave  to  serve  thee." 

He  hummed  the  melody  softly. 

The  Queen  started  up  and  caught  his  arm  almost 
roughly.  "  Not  that — not  that — do  not  sing  that ! "  she 
said,  and  to  Craven's  bewilderment  he  saw  how  she,  who 
had  not  quailed  before  the  cruellest  sorrows,  seemed 
broken  and  vanquished  by  the  lilt  of  an  old  song.  She 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  wept  helplessly. 

The  song  had  brought  back  to  her,  as  in  a  vision, 
a  night  of  June — June  forty  years  ago.  She  stood  once 
more  with  Friedrich  on  the  wide  terrace  at  Heidelberg — 
she  leaned  against  the  parapet  and  looked  down  into  the 
silent  valley,  where  the  moon  had  magicked  the  river 
Neckar  to  a  silver  pathway — the  rich  fragrance  of  roses 
was  wafted  to  her,  while  from  below,  in  the  rosery,  there 
came  a  young,  passionate  voice  singing  that  old  love 
song. 

Ah  God !  when  life  was  young,  and  love  was  young — 
how  good  had  been  the  days  !  And  now  all  was  dead, 
Friedrich  and  Christel — and  her  own  youth.  The  song 
had  come  back  to  her  like  some  ghostly  echo  of  the 
vanished  years.  Her  yearning  turned  towards  Holland, 
too,  again — to  Holland,  where  she  had  known  the  rapture 


424  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

of  Christian's  love — she  touched  the  little  jewel  on  her 
breast  and  wept  afresh. 

"  What  have  I  done  ?  Forgive  me,  I  will  never  im- 
portune you  again  !  It  was  insolent  presumption,  but  I 
only  wish  to  serve  you — "  he  said. 

"  Craven,  my  friend,"  she  answered,  and  once  more  the 
witchery  of  her  smile  conquered  both  tears  and  old  age, 
and  made  her  seem  young  again,  "  Craven,  you  brought 
my  youth  back  to  me ;  yon  song  was  sung  to  me  forty 
years  ago,  when  I  was  young,  and  I  do  but  weep  my  lost 
youth,  as  all  must  mourn,  methinks,  when  they  know  life's 
fairest  gift  is  faded — faded  with  the  roses  of  my  rosery 
at  Heidelberg,  which  they  tell  me  Spinola's  men  trampled 
down  long  since." 

Craven  looked  at  her  questioningly.  Suddenly  he 
realised  the  gulf  of  years  which  was  betwixt  him  and  his 
beloved  Queen,  and  the  knowledge  came  to  him  that  love 
may  conquer  all  foes  save  that  relentless,  silent  combatant 
Time.  The  years  that  have  vanished  no  man  can  snatch 
back,  even  if  he  give  his  soul  he  may  not  alter  one  line 
of  the  song  that  has  been  sung.  Thus  the  indestructible 
past  rises  between  old  age  and  youth,  a  barrier  which  none 
can  break  down. 

Craven  bent  and  kissed  the  Queen's  hand  reverently. 
"  I  will  never  importune  you  more,"  he  said  gently. 

"  Nay ! "  she  answered,  "  I  will  grant  you  what  you  ask. 
After  all,  'tis  but  a  few  years  that  I  have  to  give,  but  shall 
I  not  reward  you  for  so  faithful  a  service  ?  If  it  would 
make  you  happy  to  be  bound  to  me  by  God's  law,  I  will 
right  gladly  be  your  wife,  and  we  will  go  to  Combe,  and 
live  through  the  quiet  days.  Craven,  you  have  given 
me  peace — peace  after  so  many  storms."  She  laid  her 
hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  drew  him  to  her,  looking 
straight  into  his  honest  grey  eyes  which  were  a  little 
clouded  with  tears  just  then.  "God  bless  you  for  all 
you  have  been  to  me ! "  she  said. 

Thus  it  fell  out  that  Elizabeth  Stuart,  Queen  of  Bohemia, 
gave  her  hand  in  marriage  to  my  Lord  of  Craven,  son  of 


HOME  425 

the  draper  merchant,  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  and  one  of 
the  truest  gentlemen  that  ever  lived. 

So  she  came  back  to  Combe  at  last,  and  the  long  years 
seemed,  for  a  moment,  to  have  rolled  away,  and  she 
dreamed  herself  a  little  maiden  once  more.  All  things 
were  unchanged,  the  tall  trees  of  the  avenue  whispered 
the  same  secrets  beneath  the  breeze's  kiss;  they  seemed 
to  be  the  same  water-lilies  on  the  moat  swaying  above 
the  water's  lazy  play ;  the  same  sound  of  rooks  cawing  in 
the  trees ;  the  same  peace  brooding  over  the  red -brick 
house.  She  went  to  her  "  Isle  of  Constant  Spring," 
walked  through  the  fields  and  the  old  farmstead  which 
she  had  called  "  my  territories  "  fifty  years  ago.  She  even 
found  the  same  briar-bush  before  the  old  garden  gate- 
way, whence  she  had  so  often  plucked  wild  roses  to  carry 
to  my  Lady  of  Harrington,  who,  she  remembered,  had 
once  held  a  wild  rose  close  to  her  fresh  young  cheek,  and 
had  vowed  laughing :  "  Your  little  Highness  hath  stolen 
its  bloom,  methinks." 

The  house,  too,  was  unchanged ;  sometimes  when  she 
passed  down  the  broad,  shallow  steps  of  the  old  stairway 
she  almost  glanced  over  her  shoulder  to  see  if  she  were 
unobserved,  as  if  she  were  going  to  lean  her  arms  upon 
the  smooth  banisters,  and  to  slip  down  deliciously  with 
Phyllis — naughty,  laughing  Phyllis — sliding  after  her. 
She  occupied  the  same  room  where  she  had  slept  fifty  years 
ago ;  she  gazed  out  at  the  same  quiet  fields  beyond  the 
sunk  fence  of  the  formal  garden ;  she  heard  the  cuckoo 
calling,  and  the  doves'  soft,  monotonous  song;  the  well- 
remembered  scent  of  the  jasmin  beneath  her  window-sill 
came  to  her. 

The  only  change  was  made  by  the  things  she  had 
brought  with  her  out  of  her  long  years  of  exile,  by  the 
pictures  of  Friedrich,  and  of  the  many  brave  men  who 
had  fought  for  him.  One  picture  there  was  before  which 
she  often  stood.  This  was  Mierevelt's  copy  of  his  own 
picture  of  Christian  of  Brunswick,  of  the  mad  Halber- 
stiidter.  King  Friedrich  had  caused  Mierevelt  to  paint  all 


426  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

the  great  leaders  who  had  served  him,  and  the  Halber- 
stadter  had  been  among  them. 

Sometimes  in  the  delicious  quiet  of  the  great  park 
a  sob  rose  in  her  throat.  She  would  fain  have  given 
of  the  amplitude  of  this  peace,  of  this  sweet  calmness, 
to  Friedrich,  to  the  poor  broken-spirited  man  who  had 
written  to  her  from  a  battlefield  those  sorrowful,  humble 
words :  "  If  God  would  but  give  me  a  little  quiet  corner 
of  the  world  to  live  with  thee  and  rest." 

Peace  had  come  to  her,  did  those  who  had  loved 
her  rest  too  ?  "  Christian,  are  you  at  peace  ?  Belove'd, 
beloved ! "  she  whispered,  and  for  an  instant  the  potent 
remembrance  of  her  passion  gave  the  old  woman's  face  as 
a  mirage  of  the  splendour  of  youth. 

On  Sunday  mornings  the  Queen  drove  to  that  village 
church  at  Brinklow  where  she  had  so  often  been  as  a 
little  maiden.  Craven  would  have  fitted  up  a  private 
chapel  for  her,  but  she  loved  the  old-world  simplicity  of 
the  little  Brinklow  church,  with  its  uneven  floor  sloping 
uphill  to  the  altar ;  she  loved  to  see  the  villagers  in  their 
smocks,  and  the  rosy-faced  children.  There  was  a  home- 
liness mingled  with  the  poetry  of  the  simple  service  which 
spoke  to  her  of  her  vanished  youth.  As  she  kneeled 
there  she  realised  that,  hidden  deep  during  the  long  years, 
there  had  always  been  a  homesick  yearning  for  England, 
for  her  own  country.  She  told  herself  that  she  had  paid 
dearly  for  the  love,  the  honours,  the  ambitions,  which 
had  been  hers,  and  now  all  things  had  failed  her — but  she 
had  come  home.  And  her  heart  awoke  to  a  passion  of 
love  for  England,  English  trees,  English  grasses,  green 
and  fresh  as  are  no  other  swards  on  earth,  the  song  of 
English  birds,  for  where  else  do  they  warble  like  that  ? 
the  fragrancy  of  English  lanes,  the  softness  of  the  suave 
English  air.  She  wondered  if  it  would  be  granted  to  her 
to  live  through  an  English  spring  once  more,  to  see  the 
pale  primroses  flung  like  a  fragile  carpet  of  delicious  fresh- 
ness over  the  earth  beneath  the  trees,  and  then  the  blue 
wild  hyacinths — oh  !  to  break  off  their  thick,  crisp  stems, 
and  carry  home  a  basketful 


HOME  427 

She  bent  her  head  over  her  clasped  hands,  and  the 
villagers  saw  how  her  Majesty  of  Bohemia  wept,  and 
thought  she  mourned  her  loved  ones  again,  thought  she 
grieved  for  her  lost  kingdom,  little  knew  that  Elizabeth 
Stuart  wept  the  forfeited  years  of  that  birthright  which 
they,  the  humble  ones,  had  never  bartered,  which  they 
did  not  even  prize,  perhaps,  that  birthright  of  home — of 
England. 

Yet  memory  was  pure  of  all  bitterness  to  her  now. 
She  was  weary — she  was  resting.  The  long  day  of  her 
strife  was  ended,  the  twilight  was  falling,  and  she  rested 
that  she  might  sleep  the  sweeter  when  the  night  came. 

A  mighty  storm  raged  over  London.  The  wind  tore 
and  shrieked  and  the  rain  fell  in  torrents.  The  narrow 
streets  were  deserted ;  it  was  not  good  to  be  abroad  in 
that  cruel  tempest. 

In  the  great  gallery  at  Whitehall  King  Charles  and 
his  Court  were  assembled.  The  waxen  candles  in  the 
wall-sconces  burnt  low,  and  at  the  doors  the  lackeys 
yawned  and  cursed  the  revelry  which  kept  them  thus  on 
duty  till  so  far  into  the  night.  My  Lady  of  Castlemaine's 
little  negro  had  fallen  asleep  beside  one  of  the  pillars,  his 
turban  slanted  across  his  brow ;  one  of  his  embroidered 
slippers  had  fallen  off  and  the  tired  little  foot  lay  bare. 
Pray  heaven  her  ladyship  does  not  see  him  'ere  he  wakens 
— she  hath  a  long  pin  in  her  corsage  which  she  often 
uses  cruelly ;  she  hath  an  ivory  fan  which  can  raise  weals 
across  a  trembling  black  face. 

There  were  many  card  tables  set  out  in  the  gallery, 
small  ones  where  parties  of  three  played  gleek,  and  a  long 
table  for  lansquenet,  where  the  King  had  taken  the  bank. 
The  gold  lay  in  a  shining  heap  beside  him  ;  he  had  opened 
the  bank  with  a  hundred  pounds.  This  was  a  serious 
business,  and  even  my  Lord  Duke  of  Ormond  was  at  this 
card-play,  but  he  moved  away  after  he  had  won  a  goodly 
sum. 

"  Stay,  Ormond  !  "  cried  the  King, "  prudence  is  but  ugly 
when  a  man  hath  won  !  Stay,  man,  and  take  the  bank ! " 


428  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

"  I  pray  your  Majesty  to  hold  me  excused.  I  am 
weary  and  would  go  home,"  Ormond  answered,  bowing 
deep. 

"  Off  then !  you  will  slumber  sound  enough  with  those 
well- won  plaques  beneath  your  pillow ! "  the  King  said 
good-naturedly.  "  I  warrant  my  Lord  of  Eoscommon  will 
take  the  bank ! " 

"  I'd  play  with  the  devil  himself,  and  hold  the  bank 
against  the  minions  of  hell !  "  cried  Roscommon,  who  was 
a  little  drunk. 

"  Oh !  my  lord  poet ;  come  and  play  gleek  with  me 
and  Ashley,"  called  my  Lady  of  Shrewsbury.  "  Here  is 
Tom  Killigrew  talking  of  late  hours  and  how  we  should 
all  be  abed  ! " 

Roscommon  bent  and  whispered  to  her. 

"  Fie,  my  lord ! "  she  cried,  "  you  bring  the  blush  to 
my  cheek ! " 

"  God's  'ounds,  I  thought  she'd  unlearned  blushing ! 
Eh  ?  Barbara,  my  pretty  tyrant  ? "  the  King  whispered 
to  Lady  Castlemaine,  who  sat  near  him. 

She  did  not  answer,  her  eyes  were  fixed  with  an  un- 
mistakable look  upon  young  Harry  Jermyn,  the  hand- 
some, fatuous  fool  whom,  it  was  whispered,  not  even 
Princess  Mary  of  Orange — dead  now  this  eighteen  months 
— not  even  the  haughty  Princess  Mary  had  been  able  to 
resist.  The  King's  eyes  followed  my  Lady  Castlemaine's 
glance.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  sneered. 

"  There  is  an  ancient  dance  called  '  Cuckholds  all,'  "  he 
said,  with  aparent  irrelevancy.  She  heard  that  and 
turned  on  Charles  in  a  fury,  pouring  out  foul  words  at 
him  beneath  her  breath  ;  but  he  only  laughed. 

"  Waller,  gentle  Waller,  come  and  keep  me  company  ! " 
he  called  to  a  gaily  attired  gallant,  who  alone  of  that 
whole  assemblage  seemed  cool  and  collected. 

"  By  heaven,  man,  you  are  the  only  sober  soul  who 
diverts  me  ! "  the  King  said,  as  Waller  came  up  to  the 
lansquenet  table. 

"'Tis  not  my  soul  that  is  sober,  sire,  only  my  body 
likes  water  better  than  sack ;  but  my  soul  is  rapturously 


HOME  429 

drunken    when    I  look    on    my   Lady  of   Castlemaine," 
answered  Waller. 

She  tapped  him  on  the  fingers  with  her  fan.  "  I  like 
poets,"  she  said,  smiling  delightedly,  for  no  flattery  was 
too  obvious  for  her. 

"  I  prefer  harlots ! "  the  King  whispered  to  Killigrew, 
who  stood  near.  "  Come,  my  most  honoured  lady,  and 
beguile  my  loneliness  over  yonder,"  he  said  with  an 
exaggeratedly  low  bow. 

"  Who  plays  ?  Ladies  ?  My  Lords  ?  I  put  down 
three  hundred  pounds ! "  cried  Roscommon,  slipping  into 
Charles'  vacant  chair  at  the  head  of  the  lansquenet  table. 
A  babble  of  voices  arose  as  the  company  gathered  round. 

"  Put  Buckhurst  in  a  chair,"  said  Sir  Charles  Sedley ; 
"  he's  as  drunk  as  my  Lord  of  Lauderdale  himself,  but 
he's  sober  enough  to  lose  money." 

The  King  and  my  Lady  of  Castlemaine  wandered  away 
together  to  a  broad,  cushioned  seat  a  little  apart  from  the 
gamblers.  Charles  beckoned  Waller  and  Killigrew  to 
follow.  My  Lady  of  Castlemaine's  humour  at  that  moment 
did  not  tempt  his  Majesty  to  converse  alone  with  her. 

"  Give  me  a  cup  of  sack,  Tom,"  the  King  said  to 
Killigrew;  "it  grows  late,"  he  yawned. 

Just  then  Lady  Castlemaine  espied  the  pathetic  little 
figure  of  the  sleeping  black  boy.  "  Fetch  me  that  lazy 
nigger  !  Fetch  him  to  me,  I  say ! "  she  cried  shrilly. 

"  Leave  him  be,  Barbara ;  'tis  past  dawn,  and  he's  weary, 
poor  monkey,"  the  King  said  lazily. 

"  Fetch  him  to  me — Tom  ! — Waller  ! —  God  damn 
him,  how  dare  he  sleep  ?  "  she  screamed.  The  little  fellow 
stirred,  and  a  smile  came  over  his  dusky  face ;  he  turned 
in  his  sleep,  and  stretched  himself.  Lady  Castlemaine 
caught  up  a  small  silver  hand-mirror  which  lay  on  a 
table  near  her,  and  flung  it  full  in  the  child's  face. 

"  Well  thrown,  my  lady  ! "  laughed  Charles.  The  little 
black  boy  sat  up ;  his  turban  had  slipped  off. 

"  Oh,  oh  ! "  he  moaned,  holding  his  shaking  hands  over 
his  face.  "  Oh,  don't  ye  beat  me,  lady  ! " 

"  Fetch  him  to  me — you  fools — "  she  screamed  again. 


430  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

The  men  did  not  move.  The  King  was  laughing 
nervously.  Tom  Killigrew  stood  silent.  "Poor  little 
devil ! "  muttered  Waller  the  poet. 

Slowly  the  negro  dragged  himself  towards  Lady  Castle- 
maine ;  a  trickle  of  blood  ran  down  his  face  from  the  cut 
which  the  silver  hand-mirror  had  made.  He  crouched 
at  her  feet,  holding  up  his  small  livid  hands  in  supplication. 

"  Don't  ye  beat  me,  lady — don't  ye  beat  me!"  he  whined. 

She  took  that  long  gold  pin  with  the  ruby  head  from 
out  the  clustering  laces  at  her  bosom.  "  That  will  teach 
you  to  sleep  while  you  serve  me  ! "  she  said ;  and  plunged 
the  pin  deep  into  the  boy's  arm. 

He  fell  flat  on  his  face  and  lay  there  moaning. 

"  Enough,  Barbara !  "  the  King  said  sternly,  and  drew 
the  poor  African  to  him  kindly,  stroking  his  thick  crinkled 
hair  almost  as  gently  as  he  was  wont  to  stroke  his  spaniels. 
The  boy  gazed  up  into  his  face  with  a  rapture  of  gratitude 
in  his  rolling  eyes. 

'•'  Here,  nigger  ! "  Charles  said,  "  'tis  nothing,  little  man  ; 
better  a  bleeding  face  than  a  bleeding  heart ! "  He  gave 
him  his  soft  linen  kerchief.  "  Wipe  off  the  blood,"  he  said. 

The  boy  caught  his  hand  and  kissed  it  passionately, 
then,  crawling  close  to  the  King's  foot,  crouched  there  like 
a  tortured  animal  which  has  found  protection  at  last. 

"  You'll  leave  him  alone  now,  my  lady  !  "  the  King  said, 
and  there  was  an  accent  in  his  voice  which  caused  even 
Castlemaine  to  fall  silent. 

The  air  was  full  of  the  scent  of  ambergris,  and  of  sweet 
essences,  of  laughter  and  soft  whispered  words ;  the  gold 
clinked  as  Roscommon  pushed  it  to  a  winner,  or  drew  his 
own  gains  from  before  some  loser.  Goblets  of  sack  and 
canary  were  handed  about  by  sleepy  lackeys.  Without 
the  storm  raged,  and  the  wind,  as  though  mad  to  enter 
and  attack  the  revellers,  tore  at  the  casements,  then 
baffled,  hurried  on  moaning  eerily. 

"  What  is  this  that  I  hear,  sire,  of  her  Majesty  of 
Bohemia  ?  "  asked  Waller ;  "  'tis  said  that  since  she  came 
hither  from  Combe  last  week,  she  hath  lain  sick  unto 
death  at  Leicester  House." 


HOME  431 

"  Yes,  man,  I  am  right  grieved  for  her ;  'tis  her  lungs, 
I'm  told — a  sudden  illness,"  the  King  began. 

"  Why  is   she  at  Leicester  House  ? "    broke  in  Lady 
Castlemaine.      "  She's  married  to   Craven — or   worse — 
why  has  she  moved  to  another  abode  ?     She  was  sump- 
tuously enough  lodged  at  Craven  House,  and  'tis  waste  of 
good  money,  I  vow,  to  have  two  houses ! " 

"  Madam,  my  aunt  chooses  to  have  an  establishment  of 
her  own,"  the  King  said  haughtily.  "  She  accepts  my 
Lord  of  Craven's  hospitality  in  the  country " 

"  Hospitality !  "  sneered  Lady  Castlemaine. 

"  I  would  she  had  deigned  to  honour  my  poor  Palace 
of  Whitehall.  I  offered  her  an  apartment  here,  but  she 
was  too  ill  to  be  removed  from  Leicester  House,"  he  said. 

"  La,  sire,  if  you  make  Whitehall  a  refuge  for  the  desti- 
tute, there'll  be  no  room  for  other  people,"  retorted  Lady 
Castlemaine ;  "  but  I  warrant  your  Majesty  only  offered  the 
Queen  a  room  to  die  in — so  that  a  daughter  of  England 
should  not  die  in  a  hired  house." 

"  Barbara,  Barbara,  I  ought  to  offer  you  a  room  in  the 
Tower ! "  he  answered  gloomily.  He  lolled  back  on  the 
cushioned  seat,  and,  calling  his  spaniel,  which  was  slum- 
bering peacefully,  he  lifted  it  to  his  breast  and  held  it 
there  with  a  tenderness  he  never  showed  even  to  women. 

Without  the  wind  moaned  restlessly.  Sir  Charles 
Sedley,  who  had  just  taken  his  leave,  re-entered  the 
gallery.  He  came  up  to  the  King. 

"  There  is  a  messenger  from  my  Lord  of  Craven,  sire," 
he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  it  is  old  Master  Grey,  Craven's 
secretary." 

"  God's  body !  let  him  enter,"  the  King  cried.  "  I  am 
full  anxious  for  news  of  my  Lady  of  Bohemia ! " 

Craven's  secretary  entered,  a  grave  old  man,  and  an 
avowed  Puritan ;  but  Charles,  having  known  him  well  in 
Holland,  had  given  strict  inj  unctions  he  was  to  go  un- 
molested, for  all  his  Puritanism. 

"  How  now,  master  ? "  the  King  called,  as  the  old  man 
stood  hesitating  at  the  end  of  the  gallery.  "  Come  close  ; 
we  are  not  a  band  of  robbers  who  will  set  upon  you  !  You 


432  THE  WINTER  QUEEN 

came  with  a  message — I  trust  my  noble  kinswoman 
shudders  not  before  this  ugly  storm  ? " 

"  Nay,  sire,"  the  old  man  answered  solemnly ;  "  her 
Majesty  of  Bohemia  is  no  more.  She  died  an  hour  since 
'at  Leicester  House,  died  sitting  straight  and  brave  in  her 
own  great  crimson  chair." 

The  King  made  no  reply  for  a  moment.  The  news  was 
sudden  and  unexpected ;  for  though  all  knew  it  was  not 
well  with  Elizabeth  Stuart,  none  had  thought  that  Death 
would  come  to  her  so  soon. 

The  King  rose  from  the  cushioned  seat  where  he  had 
lolled.  He  put  his  little  spaniel  down  carefully,  then 
standing  very  straight,  with  a  proud  gesture  he  commanded 
silence  to  the  noisy  group  around  the  lansquenet  table. 

"  Gentlemen !  "  he  said  right  gravely,  "  gentlemen,  the 
Queen  of  Bohemia  is  no  more.  God  rest  her  strong, 
courageous  soul !  She  hath  been  braver  than  many  a 
knight  of  old ;  she  hath  been  very  unfortunate  " — his 
voice  grew  husky — "  'odds  life,  I  grieve  ! "  he  said,  and 
snatched  up  a  goblet  of  sack  which  stood  on  the  table 
beside  my  Lady  Castleinaine.  "  Gentlemen,  I  drink  to  a 
brave,  sweet  soul !  " 

Tears  stood  in  the  King's  brown  eyes,  so  like  those 
brown  eyes  just  closed  for  ever  at  Leicester  House,  closed 
in  great  peace  after  many  tears ;  yet,  in  spite  of  sorrows 
passing  the  share  of  most  on  earth,  eyes  which  had  never 
unlearned  the  courage  of  a  smile. 

Of  a  truth  Elizabeth  Stuart  was  a  brave,  sweet  soul ! 
God  rest  her  well ! 


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Edinburgh  &>  London 


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